I wrote not long ago that stripping and canvassing are very similar. I stand by this; it's mostly the same skill set and similar interactions. I've been surprised to find, though, that there's one major difference. I actually feel a lot more objectified when I'm canvassing than I ever did when I was stripping.
There's the general problem, in canvassing, of standing on a city street for five and a half hours a day. This makes the street harassment I mentioned in my last post a constant issue and very much a part of the job. It's a sort of montage in the background of my daily life. You know, various cut scenes of "Hey baby, what's your name?" and "Aren't you pretty?" and "You got a boyfriend?" and "I'd put that on my tongue."
It also happens with the people I canvass, though. See, I'm ostensibly standing out there for a cause that has nothing to do with my looks or my body. It's gay marriage, it's about equal rights, it's a political thing. I'm being friendly and outgoing but not sexual. The size of my boobs and the color of my eyes have nothing to do with it.
And yet I get the once-over from customers on the street as much as I did when I was stripping. They come on to me just as often. The difference is that in a strip club that's part of the expected interaction. By being there in a thong, I've given the customers permission to oggle and be lewd at me, assuming they pay appropriately.
One of the things I always liked about stripping is that it took objectification, which happens every day no matter what I do, and put it in a place where it was controlled. It gave me the option to consent to it. It gave me bouncers to make it stop if anyone did it in a way I didn't like. When I was stripping, I had the option of saying "No" to someone's objectifying behavior and having it mean something. Yes, we needed the bouncers to enforce that, but we had them. It was enforced.
On the street, I can't say no. I do sometimes, but it's often ignored. I feel like I have no control over the way people treat me, and it's often with minimal respect. I feel uncomfortable a lot of the time. I feel placed into a box labeled "fuckable woman" and imposed upon. I feel objectified. Way, way more than I ever did when I had chosen to be naked on a stage.
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Showing posts with label sex industry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex industry. Show all posts
Sex Work and Privilege
There have been a couple of interesting and definitely provocative posts on sex work in the blogosphere in the last week. What else is new, right? This time, though, I'm joining the discussion.
Renegade Evolution does a good job of answering some of buggle's assertions about "special" sex workers, but she leaves out what I think is the most important point.
What we need here is a discussion of privilege.
Those who enter into any industry with lots of privilege are going to be safer, healthier, and less likely to take risks that lead them to brutal experiences. (By privilege, I mean having a penis, white skin, no disabilities, heterosexuality, good health, a supportive family, good education, and/or an already-healthy pocketbook, to name a few.)
If people with the above privileges do experience brutality, they're also more likely to be able to access support systems to help them escape it and recover from it.
People with less privilege have fewer options for making and keeping money. In general, our system puts these people at a disadvantage, systematically and through no fault of their own. If someone desperately needs money, they'll do desperate things to get it. In any line of work, underprivileged folks are more likely to be taken advantage of and harmed.
This definitely applies to sex work, probably even more than many other industries because of the stigma surrounding it.
I would never, ever want to ignore the speech of people who've been brutalized at the hands of prostitution. They need everyone's help and compassion. I also don't want to discredit the people who do have a choice in what they do with their bodies and their decisions to take money for sex.
We absolutely need to talk about the systems of privilege and hardship that cause women (and men, let's not forget they do sex work too) to unwillingly enter an industry where they're raped and abused. The fact that privilege protects people from all kinds of pain (in all aspects of life) and yet leaves others to be trampled is deeply fucked up.
I think, however, that this is a larger issue of helping under-privileged people and not simply getting rid of sex work. Prostituted women and men are just one group of under-privileged people who need help and need a voice.
Renegade Evolution does a good job of answering some of buggle's assertions about "special" sex workers, but she leaves out what I think is the most important point.
What we need here is a discussion of privilege.
Those who enter into any industry with lots of privilege are going to be safer, healthier, and less likely to take risks that lead them to brutal experiences. (By privilege, I mean having a penis, white skin, no disabilities, heterosexuality, good health, a supportive family, good education, and/or an already-healthy pocketbook, to name a few.)
If people with the above privileges do experience brutality, they're also more likely to be able to access support systems to help them escape it and recover from it.
People with less privilege have fewer options for making and keeping money. In general, our system puts these people at a disadvantage, systematically and through no fault of their own. If someone desperately needs money, they'll do desperate things to get it. In any line of work, underprivileged folks are more likely to be taken advantage of and harmed.
This definitely applies to sex work, probably even more than many other industries because of the stigma surrounding it.
I would never, ever want to ignore the speech of people who've been brutalized at the hands of prostitution. They need everyone's help and compassion. I also don't want to discredit the people who do have a choice in what they do with their bodies and their decisions to take money for sex.
We absolutely need to talk about the systems of privilege and hardship that cause women (and men, let's not forget they do sex work too) to unwillingly enter an industry where they're raped and abused. The fact that privilege protects people from all kinds of pain (in all aspects of life) and yet leaves others to be trampled is deeply fucked up.
I think, however, that this is a larger issue of helping under-privileged people and not simply getting rid of sex work. Prostituted women and men are just one group of under-privileged people who need help and need a voice.
Bad Blogger Wrist Slap and Porn Thesis Excerpt
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Public Identity: To Come Out or Not?
I'm at a big crossroads right now.
Given how much I've been talking about it, you probably know that I'm writing an honors thesis on porn for my Women's Studies bachelor degree. It's going to be fifty pages and the culmination of a year's worth of research, as well as many years of thinking about sex, porn, and feminism.
There are so many ideas floating around out there about porn and so much conflict, especially within feminism, over what kinds of visual or cultural representations of sex are okay. I'm making a real effort to absorb and integrate all this information and if I can do it right, I'm hoping my paper will present a moderated view of all the venom on the issue. I really want to make a contribution to this debate.
I face a very serious dilemma, though. I don't think it would be ethical of me not to include the fact that I'm a sex worker, specifically a stripper, in my paper. It colors my opinions on the whole topic and gives the reader some (however inaccurate) idea of where I'm coming from. I don't believe in objectivity or removing oneself from one's academic work. There is always bias and I think the only way to counter it is to admit it and try to be as transparent about it as possible.
However, if I admit to the academic community at large that I'm a stripper, I face the very serious probability of stigma and rejection. Although attitudes towards sex workers are better than they used to be, I know that I'll face some discrimination because of my work. If I try to get a job outside the realm of sexuality and it's public knowledge that I've been a sex worker, it could severely hurt my chances. It also makes it less likely that my academic work will be taken seriously.
There is the possibility that I could use a pseudonym, at least for now. I'm getting to a point where I need a public persona (beyond a blog name of papercutsandplastic) to do my work. I could make up a name, protect my given name for a while in case I change my mind about what I want to do and who I want to know about it.
The good thing about being in the closet is that I can come out at any time. I can always change my mind. I don't have that option if I out myself now.
On the other hand, it really is me doing this writing and doing this work. I don't want to encourage the idea that it's a fake person or an assumed personality. Whatever name I use, it's backed up by a real person. I have a history, I've had education, I have feelings.
I think one huge drawback of the common porn and sex work practice of using pseudonyms is that it makes it easier to pretend or assume that we're not real people. It's making our objectification that much simpler. Nena Cherry (one real and stereotypical porn name) is obviously not a real name, so she's obviously not a real person. It's bullshit, but I think the attitude is there in porn consumers.
I could really use some advice about this, actually, from someone who's had to make the decision her/himself. I don't think people who haven't experienced the Pink Ghetto of sex-related work are equipped to help me decide. It's a special kind of stigma, and one that I could use support to navigate.
*Edit* I just looked and realized this was my 100th post. Woo! I don't think that means anything, but it makes me feel accomplished. :-D
Given how much I've been talking about it, you probably know that I'm writing an honors thesis on porn for my Women's Studies bachelor degree. It's going to be fifty pages and the culmination of a year's worth of research, as well as many years of thinking about sex, porn, and feminism.
There are so many ideas floating around out there about porn and so much conflict, especially within feminism, over what kinds of visual or cultural representations of sex are okay. I'm making a real effort to absorb and integrate all this information and if I can do it right, I'm hoping my paper will present a moderated view of all the venom on the issue. I really want to make a contribution to this debate.
I face a very serious dilemma, though. I don't think it would be ethical of me not to include the fact that I'm a sex worker, specifically a stripper, in my paper. It colors my opinions on the whole topic and gives the reader some (however inaccurate) idea of where I'm coming from. I don't believe in objectivity or removing oneself from one's academic work. There is always bias and I think the only way to counter it is to admit it and try to be as transparent about it as possible.
However, if I admit to the academic community at large that I'm a stripper, I face the very serious probability of stigma and rejection. Although attitudes towards sex workers are better than they used to be, I know that I'll face some discrimination because of my work. If I try to get a job outside the realm of sexuality and it's public knowledge that I've been a sex worker, it could severely hurt my chances. It also makes it less likely that my academic work will be taken seriously.
There is the possibility that I could use a pseudonym, at least for now. I'm getting to a point where I need a public persona (beyond a blog name of papercutsandplastic) to do my work. I could make up a name, protect my given name for a while in case I change my mind about what I want to do and who I want to know about it.
The good thing about being in the closet is that I can come out at any time. I can always change my mind. I don't have that option if I out myself now.
On the other hand, it really is me doing this writing and doing this work. I don't want to encourage the idea that it's a fake person or an assumed personality. Whatever name I use, it's backed up by a real person. I have a history, I've had education, I have feelings.
I think one huge drawback of the common porn and sex work practice of using pseudonyms is that it makes it easier to pretend or assume that we're not real people. It's making our objectification that much simpler. Nena Cherry (one real and stereotypical porn name) is obviously not a real name, so she's obviously not a real person. It's bullshit, but I think the attitude is there in porn consumers.
I could really use some advice about this, actually, from someone who's had to make the decision her/himself. I don't think people who haven't experienced the Pink Ghetto of sex-related work are equipped to help me decide. It's a special kind of stigma, and one that I could use support to navigate.
*Edit* I just looked and realized this was my 100th post. Woo! I don't think that means anything, but it makes me feel accomplished. :-D
The Shit Feminists Say About Porn
I'm writing an honors thesis on porn.
I've mentioned this before, and I've said a few things about it. You probably have some idea where I'm coming from, especially since I'm a stripper. That gives you some prepackaged ideas about who I am and what I think.
I don't know, though, how to engage with all the shit (yes, shit) that feminists say about pornography.
Everybody is so concerned with taking a side. We must all be Pro-Pornography! or Anti-Pornography! and there is so little room allowed for having an opinion that's in between. It's yet another fun incarnation of the good ol' virgin/whore dichotomy.
There's so much vitriol on both sides:
"Those who oppose pornography are anti-sex! They continue the oppression of women by oppressing our sexual expression! They take away the agency of sex workers, taking away the agency and independence of women! Pornography should be encouraged as a sexual expression and an education tool!"
Or:
"Those who support pornography are anti-woman! They continue the oppression of women by encouraging representations of violence against women, perpetuating the myth that all women want to be dominated and abused! They ignore the economic and social coercion of women into sex and sex work! Pornography should be illegal and stigmatized!"
For heaven's sake, you're both right.
I think, actually, that Ariel Levy has a good idea of what's going on. Her book Female Chauvinist Pigs
is immensely popular, especially with the anti-porn set, but if you read carefully, she's in the middle of the debate. She doesn't actually think that all porn is terrible (as the anti-porn activists want us to think), but she's not unequivocally accepting of porn and what she calls "raunch culture" either.
Here's an excerpt from an email conversation she had with Susie Bright about her book and what it means for "sex-positive" or "sex radical" feminists:
I've mentioned this before, and I've said a few things about it. You probably have some idea where I'm coming from, especially since I'm a stripper. That gives you some prepackaged ideas about who I am and what I think.
I don't know, though, how to engage with all the shit (yes, shit) that feminists say about pornography.
Everybody is so concerned with taking a side. We must all be Pro-Pornography! or Anti-Pornography! and there is so little room allowed for having an opinion that's in between. It's yet another fun incarnation of the good ol' virgin/whore dichotomy.
There's so much vitriol on both sides:
"Those who oppose pornography are anti-sex! They continue the oppression of women by oppressing our sexual expression! They take away the agency of sex workers, taking away the agency and independence of women! Pornography should be encouraged as a sexual expression and an education tool!"
Or:
"Those who support pornography are anti-woman! They continue the oppression of women by encouraging representations of violence against women, perpetuating the myth that all women want to be dominated and abused! They ignore the economic and social coercion of women into sex and sex work! Pornography should be illegal and stigmatized!"
For heaven's sake, you're both right.
I think, actually, that Ariel Levy has a good idea of what's going on. Her book Female Chauvinist Pigs
is immensely popular, especially with the anti-porn set, but if you read carefully, she's in the middle of the debate. She doesn't actually think that all porn is terrible (as the anti-porn activists want us to think), but she's not unequivocally accepting of porn and what she calls "raunch culture" either.Here's an excerpt from an email conversation she had with Susie Bright about her book and what it means for "sex-positive" or "sex radical" feminists:
OF COURSE I don't think you & co. are responsible for this...the whole point of sex radicals is to explore new and different and more creative ways to represent— and to have— sex. I'm all for creativity. I'm all for exploration. I'm just not for the incessant reiteration of this one incredibly dull shorthand for sexiness... Wet t-shirt contests! Implants! Brazilian bikini waxes!Let's try and find a middle road here, people. We all want the same thing, ultimately. We want women and men to be equal to each other. We don't want these gender stereotypes and privileges to rule our lives. We want to preserve sexual freedom for both sexes. We want to make sure that no one ever has to give in to a sexuality that's harmful to them. It's a noble goal. We should work towards it together.
It's pathetically limiting. I'm tired of hearing about how liberating and empowering "raunch culture" is. I think it's the easy way out... as if when we buy a thong or a t-shirt with the Playboy bunny on it, then we don't have to question or face our own complicated desires. (But then you miss out on all the fun!)
You have always been about encouraging women to investigate what they really and truly want from sex. Raunch culture, on the other hand, is about performance, not pleasure. That's my objection.
Tuesday Review: Pornography: The Production and Consumption of Inequality
Okay, I know the Tuesday Reviews are kind of sporadic, but I'm a busy woman. I do my best.
This week's review isn't exactly a recommendation, more of an exercise in stretching my brain and my opinions on porn. That's important to do, and books like Pornography: The Production and Consumption of Inequality
by Gail Dines, Robert Jensen, and Ann Russo are the background for dialogues about porn and sex work today.In the interest of full disclosure, I'll admit I read this book for a research project I'm doing for my Women's Studies honors thesis. I'll be examining "feminist" porn and the tactics it uses to address critiques like the ones brought up in Pornography
. I'm starting by reading a whole slew of books written by anti-porn feminists so that I can be fluent in their criticisms of porn.One of the things that was striking to me in reading this book was the way the authors framed their arguments in relation to sex-positive feminists who they called "sexual liberals." The first couple of chapters were devoted to naming and disputing "sexually liberal" criticisms of anti-pornography feminism. As the book went on it got a little more nuanced, but the first two chapters set the tone for the narratives about porn.
I'm probably not going to make myself popular with people on either side by saying this, but I have a huge problem with the divisiveness we see surrounding the issue of porn in feminism. It's a problem on both sides, and I think it's really unproductive.
I agree with the anti-porn feminists that a lot of porn does represent and reinforce the patriarchal gender roles of our society. Including a tendency towards violence against women.
I agree with the sex positive feminists that porn can be a very powerful tool for exploring and expressing female sexuality. I think that any consciously navigated choice to be sexual as a woman is an act of rebellion against the stupid virgin/whore complex.
Which, by the way, is hugely at play in the conflict between these groups. The anti-porners basically call the sex pos-ers whores for advocating for what they see as the always patriarchal representations of sex in porn. The sex pos-ers call the anti-porners prudes for criticizing sex and porn and fucked up power dynamics between men and women.
It's a bad show.
I'm having a real "Ack! I've been identifying solely with one side of this argument, but I think the other has solid points too!" kind of moment.
I still think that the sex positive movement has a more productive approach to porn: actually making porn and REconstructing gender roles in it by altering the circumstances of its production and consumption. However, I don't think they'd be much of anywhere without the efforts of the anti-porn movement to highlight the sexual inequalities that are prevalent everywhere.
I think that where the anti-porn movement reacts to a negative sexual situation in our country, the pro-sex movement acts to change it. That's why I'm writing about feminist porn; I want to see how they're doing.
After that long word vomit, back to the book. I did really like the last few chapters where the authors talked more about their personal interactions with porn and how it affected them emotionally. These three closing essays showed, finally, a much more complex view of how to deal with porn.
I think that in the end these three are somewhat open to dealing with sex positive types (or "sexual liberals" as they're called in the book). I hope that we can all find a common ground. We're all working towards the same thing anyway: equality between men and women.
Cross posted at Fourth Wave Feminism
Porn in the Library
I'm watching Nina Hartley's Guide to Oral Sex in the library.
We have a theater with a projector and a large screen that any student can use by hooking up their computer. It's attached to a big, well-lit room that's open and used fo studying 24 hours a day.
Now, I love Nina Hartley. I got to meet her this summer and it was all I could do not to go totally squee and fan girl over her. I might have, just a little. She's been in the adult business for 23 years, and she rocks it. She's made I don't know how many films, many of them education pornos meant for (heterosexual) couples. She herself identifies as a "heterosexual butch dyke," which is super fun. She's also written a book, Nina Hartley's Guide to Total Sex
.
To be watching her in a neon green transparent body suit demonstrating the joys of cunnilingus on a huge screen in the middle of the library is just making my week.
Here's a great video of her on Julie Goldman's (of the Big Gay Sketch Show) Celesbian Interview Special:
We have a theater with a projector and a large screen that any student can use by hooking up their computer. It's attached to a big, well-lit room that's open and used fo studying 24 hours a day.
Now, I love Nina Hartley. I got to meet her this summer and it was all I could do not to go totally squee and fan girl over her. I might have, just a little. She's been in the adult business for 23 years, and she rocks it. She's made I don't know how many films, many of them education pornos meant for (heterosexual) couples. She herself identifies as a "heterosexual butch dyke," which is super fun. She's also written a book, Nina Hartley's Guide to Total Sex
.To be watching her in a neon green transparent body suit demonstrating the joys of cunnilingus on a huge screen in the middle of the library is just making my week.
Here's a great video of her on Julie Goldman's (of the Big Gay Sketch Show) Celesbian Interview Special:
Living Alone
I very much miss living in a house with other people.
I'm in a dorm again this year, in my own room. My RA is a friend who I've known for years and years, but she's not a night owl. We talk often, but don't have that many shared interests so we don't necessarily do things together.
Last year, as I actually mentioned in my last post, I lived in a house with about 30 other progressive, misanthropic, hippie types. We had a kitchen and a big living room with a TV. I had a roommate at the beginning of the year, who I adore and am still close with, and then a room to myself for most of the second semester. While I wasn't best friends with anyone in the house, I got along with all of them pretty swimmingly.
I don't think that I realized how much I got out of living in a house with so many cool people, being around them all the time, while I was actually there. I didn't think I was that close with them, or that it would be too big a deal to live elsewhere this year. I've only really digested it, actually, in the last day or two.
I used to come home from work at 2am, absolutely exhausted and talked-out and done being social and charming. Someone would usually be up smoking on the porch or playing video games in the living room. I often sat with C, a nice boy from the house, while he played Guitar Hero, just watching him until I felt calm and tired enough to go to bed. It was really nice, actually, because they were fine with me just sitting there and I think being comfortably around people after work and at night made it easier for me to cope with a high stress job.
I just got home from my first weekend night shift since I've been back at school. I started back at the club on Tuesday, after taking about a month off from dancing to get settled into school. I'm physically beat, but I don't want to go to bed. I miss having someone to just sit with. Makes me want to go visit my old house a lot more. Silly me for taking it for granted.
P. S. I know I've been bad and took a few days off from blogging. As mentioned, I went back to work this week, and I've just been feeling less-than-verbose. Here I am, though, doing better.
I'm in a dorm again this year, in my own room. My RA is a friend who I've known for years and years, but she's not a night owl. We talk often, but don't have that many shared interests so we don't necessarily do things together.
Last year, as I actually mentioned in my last post, I lived in a house with about 30 other progressive, misanthropic, hippie types. We had a kitchen and a big living room with a TV. I had a roommate at the beginning of the year, who I adore and am still close with, and then a room to myself for most of the second semester. While I wasn't best friends with anyone in the house, I got along with all of them pretty swimmingly.
I don't think that I realized how much I got out of living in a house with so many cool people, being around them all the time, while I was actually there. I didn't think I was that close with them, or that it would be too big a deal to live elsewhere this year. I've only really digested it, actually, in the last day or two.
I used to come home from work at 2am, absolutely exhausted and talked-out and done being social and charming. Someone would usually be up smoking on the porch or playing video games in the living room. I often sat with C, a nice boy from the house, while he played Guitar Hero, just watching him until I felt calm and tired enough to go to bed. It was really nice, actually, because they were fine with me just sitting there and I think being comfortably around people after work and at night made it easier for me to cope with a high stress job.
I just got home from my first weekend night shift since I've been back at school. I started back at the club on Tuesday, after taking about a month off from dancing to get settled into school. I'm physically beat, but I don't want to go to bed. I miss having someone to just sit with. Makes me want to go visit my old house a lot more. Silly me for taking it for granted.
P. S. I know I've been bad and took a few days off from blogging. As mentioned, I went back to work this week, and I've just been feeling less-than-verbose. Here I am, though, doing better.
Body Hair and Shaving
The other night I had a long discussion with a big group of people about the trials and tribulations of body hair.
I was at a party in the house where I used to live, a place full of activists, hippies, and misanthropes. I really loved living there, but I moved out to have my own room for my last year in college.
In the room with me were two men who both have beards and two other girls. We all hated shaving.
One of the guys, T, has a very full beard and he admitted that the biggest reason it's so impressive is that he just doesn't like to shave. It's not so much of a fashion statement as a rebellion against taking a blade to his face every day. A, too, didn't like shaving but happily trims his beard.
The other girls weren't big fans of the razor or its accompanying burns, nicks, and bumps, either. R has blond hair on her legs and so it's not a big deal when she doesn't shave them. She doesn't have to feel too self-conscious, despite the social pressure to have smooth legs.
I hate shaving, too, but I have to do it every time I work, which these days is twice a week. Because my club serves alcohol, it's actually illegal for me to show any pubic hair on stage. If I don't get rid of it all, it'll peek out from under the tiny g-strings we have to wear.
Whenever I shave my bush, I get ingrown hairs. There's just no getting around it. I've tried everything, various razors and shaving products, and it's just a fact of my life. It's not as bad if I can let it grow out for a couple of weeks in between shaves, but I don't have that option with work. If I shave twice within five days, I also get lots of little nicks and it's very uncomfortable. This is just an occupational hazard that I've had to get used to.
My body hair in general is dark and coarse and thick. I have been trying, recently, to be more comfortable with my unshaven legs, but it's still hard. I still think of my body hair as manly, and while I don't mind being a little androgynous, I do like to be feminine and pretty. I feel like people will think less of me for my hairy legs.
But I hate shaving, and I will do as I please when it comes to grooming and presenting myself. It's really silly and awful and arbitrary that women are expected to have no noticeable body hair. I mean, we're humans, it's part of our anatomy. It's just as natural on us as it is on men.
Where did that expectation even come from? Even as a gender studies major and a raging feminist, I have no idea when it started or why. Hmm, that is definitely something to look into. I'll let you know when I find out.
Stripping for Friends
This weekend I drank too much and ended up stripping in my room for my friends.
I have a pole set up in my room, which I spent too much money on but which I love. It keeps some of the stripping addiction at bay if I can spin around the pole to languorous music whenever I want. I also stay in better shape when I'm not working so I don't injure myself when I go back.
It's funny, though, what happens when my friends and I start playing good dance music and the pole is right there. My first instinct is to throw off all my clothes and writhe around. I want to spin upside down and grind my hips and touch myself, right in the middle of my dorm room. When I've had enough tequila, that's exactly what I do.
This creates an odd dynamic.
I'm very open about my job, especially with people my own age in a casual setting. All my friends know what I do, and most of them are kind of delighted to hear and talk about it. It's titillating.
When they come to visit me at the club, though, or when I drink and start acting like a stripper in real life, it gets a little funny.
I like to be good at what I do, and I'm vain enough to want to show off my skills. I take pride in my pole tricks and my lap dancing. But it's not so easy to show one of my friends a really good lap dance trick. If it's really such a good trick, they'll get turned on when I demonstrate.
Now, I like to blur the lines between friend and lover, but it does help to have a few friends around that I don't fuck. Wanting to show off my work to these friends becomes tricky.
That's one of the unfortunate things about working in the sex industry. While it is usually just a job to me, the thought and sight of what I do is so sexually charged to everyone else. Whereas I'm thinking about how my muscles are moving and my balance and where exactly I'm positioned when I put my leg over my head and grind in someone's lap, they're just thinking "Whoa, this is hot." If it's a friend, they're thinking "Whoa, this is hot. But this is my friend! Ack! I don't know what to do!"
I guess that's just one of those things that goes along with the job description. It's also a nice thing about hanging out with other strippers. I can talk shop with them and they get that really it is just a job.
I have a pole set up in my room, which I spent too much money on but which I love. It keeps some of the stripping addiction at bay if I can spin around the pole to languorous music whenever I want. I also stay in better shape when I'm not working so I don't injure myself when I go back.
It's funny, though, what happens when my friends and I start playing good dance music and the pole is right there. My first instinct is to throw off all my clothes and writhe around. I want to spin upside down and grind my hips and touch myself, right in the middle of my dorm room. When I've had enough tequila, that's exactly what I do.
This creates an odd dynamic.
I'm very open about my job, especially with people my own age in a casual setting. All my friends know what I do, and most of them are kind of delighted to hear and talk about it. It's titillating.
When they come to visit me at the club, though, or when I drink and start acting like a stripper in real life, it gets a little funny.
I like to be good at what I do, and I'm vain enough to want to show off my skills. I take pride in my pole tricks and my lap dancing. But it's not so easy to show one of my friends a really good lap dance trick. If it's really such a good trick, they'll get turned on when I demonstrate.
Now, I like to blur the lines between friend and lover, but it does help to have a few friends around that I don't fuck. Wanting to show off my work to these friends becomes tricky.
That's one of the unfortunate things about working in the sex industry. While it is usually just a job to me, the thought and sight of what I do is so sexually charged to everyone else. Whereas I'm thinking about how my muscles are moving and my balance and where exactly I'm positioned when I put my leg over my head and grind in someone's lap, they're just thinking "Whoa, this is hot." If it's a friend, they're thinking "Whoa, this is hot. But this is my friend! Ack! I don't know what to do!"
I guess that's just one of those things that goes along with the job description. It's also a nice thing about hanging out with other strippers. I can talk shop with them and they get that really it is just a job.
Porn vs. Erotica
I refuse to make a distinction between "erotica" and "porn."
If I see material that depicts something that could be sexy, I call it porn. I don't care whether or not its intent is to get people off. It could be "purely for artistic purposes." If it shows anything that's sexually explicit, I consider it porn.
I don't think we need to differentiate between what's sexy art and what's sexy but doesn't count as art. This creates a system where we value the art more and the non-art less. It's another way of saying that eroticism for its own sake is negative, and I think that's a big pile of hooey. I think something that's purely intended to cause orgasms can be beautiful, and something intended just for aesthetic beauty can be erotically titillating. I jill off to "erotic art" all the time.
The difference between the two terms is also heavily tied in with censorship. Material can be deemed obscene and banned if the government decides that it has no artistic merit. Creating a linguistic distinction between porn and erotica opens us up to this kind of censorship. If we've already labeled some things as "less than artistic," it's a small step for the government to label them obscene.
Now, I know that the word "pornography" comes from inauspicious roots. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the word as the following:
You could argue that we should apply the term "erotica" to all sexually explicit material. This new word doesn't have the connotation of artlessness and baseness. Why not apply it without discrimination? That's a valid point. I just like the word "porn" better.
Porn came first. Before we started calling things "erotica" instead of "pornography," we didn't have a word for sexually explicit art that (supposedly) wasn't erotically thrilling. It's the creation of the new word that's given us a hierarchy. Now we're trying to decide which sex acts we can depict: which ones are "artistic," and which ones aren't. It's just another form of sexual elitism.
So let's just cut the bullshit and call it all porn. Just like there shouldn't be a scale of kink, we don't need a scale for the "artiness" of our sexual materials.
If I see material that depicts something that could be sexy, I call it porn. I don't care whether or not its intent is to get people off. It could be "purely for artistic purposes." If it shows anything that's sexually explicit, I consider it porn.
I don't think we need to differentiate between what's sexy art and what's sexy but doesn't count as art. This creates a system where we value the art more and the non-art less. It's another way of saying that eroticism for its own sake is negative, and I think that's a big pile of hooey. I think something that's purely intended to cause orgasms can be beautiful, and something intended just for aesthetic beauty can be erotically titillating. I jill off to "erotic art" all the time.
The difference between the two terms is also heavily tied in with censorship. Material can be deemed obscene and banned if the government decides that it has no artistic merit. Creating a linguistic distinction between porn and erotica opens us up to this kind of censorship. If we've already labeled some things as "less than artistic," it's a small step for the government to label them obscene.
Now, I know that the word "pornography" comes from inauspicious roots. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the word as the following:
The explicit description or exhibition of sexual subjects or activity in literature, painting, films, etc., in a manner intended to stimulate erotic rather than aesthetic feelings; printed or visual material containing this.So it's true that the very definition of the word creates a distinction between aesthetically arousing and erotically arousing material.
You could argue that we should apply the term "erotica" to all sexually explicit material. This new word doesn't have the connotation of artlessness and baseness. Why not apply it without discrimination? That's a valid point. I just like the word "porn" better.
Porn came first. Before we started calling things "erotica" instead of "pornography," we didn't have a word for sexually explicit art that (supposedly) wasn't erotically thrilling. It's the creation of the new word that's given us a hierarchy. Now we're trying to decide which sex acts we can depict: which ones are "artistic," and which ones aren't. It's just another form of sexual elitism.
So let's just cut the bullshit and call it all porn. Just like there shouldn't be a scale of kink, we don't need a scale for the "artiness" of our sexual materials.
Let's Talk About Sex?
I've been porn shopping, again, because my birthday is coming up and if people are going to give me presents, they might as well be X-rated.
The weird, very weird, thing is that I run across a lot of my boss's porn. I mean, yeah, I've known all along that she does porn. She's also got an obvious sex appeal and a lot of what we do at the gallery is based around sexuality. It's just a little funny to read the descriptions of her as product, as sex object and submissive on these porn sales sites. She tries to be very professional at work, and it's a whole different side of things.
I'm a part of the sex industry, through the stripping, and I'm getting more and more used to the idea of sex as a product and a performance. It still makes me smirk and feel a little funny when I see someone's personal attributes quantified for a price. I don't know, it's kind of nice to know people who work in porn and to know them in the context of real life as opposed to just as their porno characters, their sales pitch personae. It's a good reminder that people can be many things at once, even when they seem to contrast.
I think it's mostly weird because people so carefully avoid talking about actual sex and real desire in professional or polite company. It still happens in the sexuality world, which is odd. Yes, we talk about sex in an intellectual and political way and we work a lot with sexual themes or objects or films. It still doesn't seem, though, like people express anything genuinely sexual unless they're mid-act or about to be.
I don't have any conclusions to make about this, but it's a strange observation.
The weird, very weird, thing is that I run across a lot of my boss's porn. I mean, yeah, I've known all along that she does porn. She's also got an obvious sex appeal and a lot of what we do at the gallery is based around sexuality. It's just a little funny to read the descriptions of her as product, as sex object and submissive on these porn sales sites. She tries to be very professional at work, and it's a whole different side of things.
I'm a part of the sex industry, through the stripping, and I'm getting more and more used to the idea of sex as a product and a performance. It still makes me smirk and feel a little funny when I see someone's personal attributes quantified for a price. I don't know, it's kind of nice to know people who work in porn and to know them in the context of real life as opposed to just as their porno characters, their sales pitch personae. It's a good reminder that people can be many things at once, even when they seem to contrast.
I think it's mostly weird because people so carefully avoid talking about actual sex and real desire in professional or polite company. It still happens in the sexuality world, which is odd. Yes, we talk about sex in an intellectual and political way and we work a lot with sexual themes or objects or films. It still doesn't seem, though, like people express anything genuinely sexual unless they're mid-act or about to be.
I don't have any conclusions to make about this, but it's a strange observation.
Notes from Afar on the AVN Expo
I've been reading and watching a lot of coverage of the AVN Adult Entertainment Expo (thanks to Fleshbot, Audacia Ray, and Jayme Waxman) recently.
I just wanted to note that the most talked about booth at AVN, by far, is the Abby Winters booth. Now, that makes a lot of sense since the gorgeous models from the site camped out in underwear doing yoga and making out all day, but I think there are some very good things about the amount of attention they've received.
These women are definitely not your "average" porn stars. No augmented breasts, no makeup (!), and a somewhat more representative range of body types. Granted, the women who traveled to Las Vegas were generally thin and relatively well endowed in the bust region, but a quick glimpse of the Abby Winters website shows that they're not afraid to leave the usual porn realm of teeny tiny women with ginormous breasts and really long fingernails.
All the videos and pictures on the site are shot by women, they don't use airbrushing, and they even "use green energy" and have "company bicycles." I also liked that they have shoots of women doing yoga, dancing, running, tumbling etc. Part of objectification of women has always been reducing the female body to sex and sex alone, ignoring the other things it can do: move, lift, run, sit, etc. Granted, they're pictures meant for masturbation, but they at least acknowledge that women do more with their bodies than fuck.
Now, I'm not saying the site is perfect. There is always the implication of a male viewer in this all-female paradise. The site heavily emphasizes the authenticity of the models and the shoots, but they play on the idea of a voyeur. I haven't cut the following blurb from their website tour at all: "it’s not a fantasy – it’s reality! What will happen next? Who will get naked first? How do friends react to each other? Imagine if you were there too!" Imagining if "you were there too" is clearly a fantasy, but they are trying to blur that line. The viewer is still meant to place HIMself in the scene in his imagination.
BUT I like the site as a woman-friendly, authentic-female-orgasm-showing, and just plain sexy porn site. I think its popularity at AVN should be a message to at least someone in the porn industry that men (and women) are not always looking for the overblown, plasticized porn star. We want realistic women, too. I'd love to see more of them in porn.
I just wanted to note that the most talked about booth at AVN, by far, is the Abby Winters booth. Now, that makes a lot of sense since the gorgeous models from the site camped out in underwear doing yoga and making out all day, but I think there are some very good things about the amount of attention they've received.
These women are definitely not your "average" porn stars. No augmented breasts, no makeup (!), and a somewhat more representative range of body types. Granted, the women who traveled to Las Vegas were generally thin and relatively well endowed in the bust region, but a quick glimpse of the Abby Winters website shows that they're not afraid to leave the usual porn realm of teeny tiny women with ginormous breasts and really long fingernails.
All the videos and pictures on the site are shot by women, they don't use airbrushing, and they even "use green energy" and have "company bicycles." I also liked that they have shoots of women doing yoga, dancing, running, tumbling etc. Part of objectification of women has always been reducing the female body to sex and sex alone, ignoring the other things it can do: move, lift, run, sit, etc. Granted, they're pictures meant for masturbation, but they at least acknowledge that women do more with their bodies than fuck.
Now, I'm not saying the site is perfect. There is always the implication of a male viewer in this all-female paradise. The site heavily emphasizes the authenticity of the models and the shoots, but they play on the idea of a voyeur. I haven't cut the following blurb from their website tour at all: "it’s not a fantasy – it’s reality! What will happen next? Who will get naked first? How do friends react to each other? Imagine if you were there too!" Imagining if "you were there too" is clearly a fantasy, but they are trying to blur that line. The viewer is still meant to place HIMself in the scene in his imagination.
BUT I like the site as a woman-friendly, authentic-female-orgasm-showing, and just plain sexy porn site. I think its popularity at AVN should be a message to at least someone in the porn industry that men (and women) are not always looking for the overblown, plasticized porn star. We want realistic women, too. I'd love to see more of them in porn.
Buyin' Bodies
I've been on a quest for porn lately. Despite my interest in sexuality and sexual culture, I never really learned much about porn. I feel like I'm behind the times, and I want to catch up.
So I've been trolling for websites and generally spending winter vacation being a busy porn seeker. I've had some success, but I'm still feeling tentative. Like so many other people, I've seen lots of porn that was more of a turn off than a turn on. I'm excited, though, to find some things that actually float my boat.
I had a strange experience recently, in the midst of this quest. I had just gotten access to Suicide Girls—you know, the popular website with nude pinup photos of alt-y young women with tattoos and piercings and colored hair. Each woman on the site has a page, informing the public of her age, interests, occupation, etc, and links to each of her photo shoots, with titles like “Red Doll Army,” “Rainy Afternoon Kitten,” and “Lovely Lounger.” There are about a thousand Suicide Girls, and I browsed through, trying to figure out which ones I wanted to look at more closely, who I wanted to see naked.
On the Suicide Girls website, there is a new section for Suicide Boys, alt-y tattooed men who put photos of themselves online for women (and other men) to browse through. However, there are no profession photo shoots in this section of the website. There is no official Suicide Boys website, it's simply a subgroup of the part of Suicide Girls that's "like Myspace for adults." Anyone can post his photos. I'm glad it exists, but even on the progressive Suicide Girls site, it's a lesser, less popular section.
I wish that it was a better frequented part of the site. That more women could and would go check out the hot guys. I didn't feel entirely comfortable with what I was doing once I realized that I was in such a consumer's mindset in terms of the Suicide Girls' bodies, but maybe it was actually an important thing for me to do. I was exploring my sexual tastes and fantasies, and giving myself permission to choose who I wanted to look at. I'm learning to apply that in the real world: choosing who I sleep with based on my desires instead of always just going with those who want me. I suppose that's revolutionary in its own way, not giving in to the desires of men to boost my self esteem. I hope more women begin to do it, so that the commodification of sexuality stops being so gender biased. Let's encourage those Suicide Boys.
So I've been trolling for websites and generally spending winter vacation being a busy porn seeker. I've had some success, but I'm still feeling tentative. Like so many other people, I've seen lots of porn that was more of a turn off than a turn on. I'm excited, though, to find some things that actually float my boat.
I had a strange experience recently, in the midst of this quest. I had just gotten access to Suicide Girls—you know, the popular website with nude pinup photos of alt-y young women with tattoos and piercings and colored hair. Each woman on the site has a page, informing the public of her age, interests, occupation, etc, and links to each of her photo shoots, with titles like “Red Doll Army,” “Rainy Afternoon Kitten,” and “Lovely Lounger.” There are about a thousand Suicide Girls, and I browsed through, trying to figure out which ones I wanted to look at more closely, who I wanted to see naked.
It was my first real experience with being a consumer of nudity, of this kind of porn. I've done some porn shopping before, particularly in the last month, but never like this. Here, there are so many face shots, so many bios, and I am literally looking through them to decide what I want. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a blonde today, I’m thinking dark hair.” “She’s sweet looking, but I don’t think I like her tattoos.” It’s very literally being a consumer. I am weighing the products I’m going to buy—except that the products are women.
As a stripper, I'm usually on the other end of that transaction. Every time there's a shift change at work, all the dancers on the clock get up on the stage and pose and prance around together so the gentleman callers can peruse their options. The management calls it "cabaret." One of my coworkers refers to it as "the auction block." Even given this, some men will wait until the end of the night to buy a dance. They want to make sure they get the product—the girl—they like the most. It’s the same thing. Buying a woman.
On the Suicide Girls website, there is a new section for Suicide Boys, alt-y tattooed men who put photos of themselves online for women (and other men) to browse through. However, there are no profession photo shoots in this section of the website. There is no official Suicide Boys website, it's simply a subgroup of the part of Suicide Girls that's "like Myspace for adults." Anyone can post his photos. I'm glad it exists, but even on the progressive Suicide Girls site, it's a lesser, less popular section.
I wish that it was a better frequented part of the site. That more women could and would go check out the hot guys. I didn't feel entirely comfortable with what I was doing once I realized that I was in such a consumer's mindset in terms of the Suicide Girls' bodies, but maybe it was actually an important thing for me to do. I was exploring my sexual tastes and fantasies, and giving myself permission to choose who I wanted to look at. I'm learning to apply that in the real world: choosing who I sleep with based on my desires instead of always just going with those who want me. I suppose that's revolutionary in its own way, not giving in to the desires of men to boost my self esteem. I hope more women begin to do it, so that the commodification of sexuality stops being so gender biased. Let's encourage those Suicide Boys.
On living, loving, learning, and fucking with the materials I've got at hand.
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