Just Kidding... and here's a blog post.

That post below this? Wasn't really a joke. But the Huffington Post Live thing is not happening tomorrow because Romney chose a running mate and it's a priority topic over feminist porn. Understandable, I suppose. You can still check out HuffPostLive tomorrow if you want to listen to people talk about Paul Ryan (a pretty un-feminist fellow if you ask me). 

In the meantime, check out this little piece I wrote. It was a submission for a book. But the editors decided to go with another. So you get it here. :) 

My Pornography

She walks towards me in the dark, her hips rocking to the beat of a popular electronic remix. Her clothes fall to the floor. She has flesh in my face and is dancing just for me. For a moment, the last part is true.  

I whisper, “I need to change camera angles,” and do as I've said. The erection I'm holding goes soft, and we start the process all over again.

It's the most intimate this could possibly be. Because we're alone and she's my girlfriend. But this isn't just sex, or even foreplay. It's porn. And aside from all other definitions, I'd call it the act of delaying, altering, or completely bypassing immediate sexual desire to document something more explicit and cinematic.

In the case of my girlfriend and I, it means interrupting the normal process of my arousal to create stylized, amateur content without the budget for a proper crew. On most sets, it just means waiting around a lot, masturbating in between poses for hardcore sex photos, leaning back during videos, and otherwise keeping my body from obscuring the camera's view of penetration.

As mechanical as it sounds, performing can be a great deal of fun. It's staged, manipulated sex, but it still holds something of the original act. Of course, the friction is always there, the pleasure of rubbing skin on skin. But when asked whether my career is a fulfilling one, I've learned to answer, “Yes.”

At first, the answer was knee-jerk politics. Because I've seen my reality shaped for me in the public consciousness.  Anti-porn advocates champion exaggerated, and often fabricated, evidence to tarnish my profession. If they didn't, sex-worker-shaming would still be ingrained in much of cultural mythology. A alternative voice only seemed fair. However, if my answer once relied on fighting back, it now means something more. For me, pornography has become what I've always wanted it to be. I can now answer, “Yes, my career is a fulfilling one,” and after, “Yes, I actually mean it.”   

If I were digging ditches or dedicating my life to another career based on manual labor, it might be different. I mean, there's fulfillment in all such things. I sweat and it feels good. I fuck, and it's better. Like going on a run, the strict physicality is about producing endorphins. But if that's all there is, then who cares? For me, porn is about sexual exploration, cultural impact, and the time it allows to pursue other interests in life.

I’ve learned things I never sought to find out. I can now say, without a doubt, “I don't enjoy being fucked in the ass with a strap-on.” Perhaps the statement holds no objective importance, but it means a lot to me. Because I've tried this and many other kinds of sex acts. I've learned the subtle dynamics of the most intimate form of human exchange, and how such a thing can hold no intimacy at all.  

I was taught, like most young Americans, that sex can only mean a number of things: an expression of love, a way to hurt someone, and a means to further our species. The “love” definition held the most resonance, although I'd felt it only maybe once before.

But through porn, I've found it possible to hold onto a form of “monogamy” in my life, and also kiss, fuck, and wrap my body around someone else, embedding each act with equal sincerity.

The job offers a space in which to practice these moments outside of the usual context. In the most authentic interactions, I don't know that there's a word or phrase for what transpires. “Sexual chemistry” is the closest I can think of. Still, we're not normally allowed to experience such things and walk away so easily. Porn is a place where I can tell you, with my body, that I enjoy yours to the greatest extent possible (and our relationship ends there). I mean, if we're both truly present, that's what we're going for: to capture that moment for someone else.

Of course, that's not what always happens. More often than not, I'm staring at a wall and then a hole in someone's skin. I'm relying partially on erectile dysfunction drugs to get me through something that looks like sex. Because I'm having a bad day, or she's not my type, or the feedback from my co-performer is virtually nonexistent.

I once had a girl tell me, “I'm just doing this to pay for my abortion,” to which I had to stop and consider my moral obligations. At the end, I concluded, “Well, I need to pay my bills and this is the way I've decided to do it. We're both getting something out of this. It just has nothing to do with our desire for sex.”

On a cultural level, this is problematic. It means that the majority of pornography is made with the mindset of, “This is not the best situation possible, but we need to get it done.” But I'm sure that's the case with most jobs. It's just that porn has become the most prevalent depiction of human sexuality on the planet. That depiction is now primarily utilitarian and industrial.  

“You can't put your hand on her tits for more than five seconds at a time because the viewer wants to see her tits.” This is an actual quote from a director and it's not even something he made up. He gets a paycheck from a production studio that has implemented this rule. It may make sense from a commercial standpoint, but not in regards to human sexuality. When having sex, I like to touch my partner. Given my substantial sexual experience, I've found that so do most people.

The implementation of rules, or trends, in pornography is a form of cultural sexual conditioning. And while I'm aware that as a performer I contribute to this, it's also one of the reasons I find pornography so interesting. To be a self-aware pornographer doesn't mean that one should fight the status quo one hundred percent of the time. Such a thing is impossible. I believe it means that one should be held accountable to a public dialog, to say, “This is porn, this is real life, and sometimes they interact.”

However small my celebrity may be, it allows for a public discourse on how my work affects “our” sexuality, and not just my own. The lack of condoms in most mainstream porn is a current topic of debate. Their absence allows porn producers to sell more product and performers to get through longer scenes without increased skin irritation for women and condom-fatigue (up-and-down erections) for men. It also means that porn fails to produce images of sexual responsibility for young people who face an increasing lack of public sex education.

Porn performers have the opportunity to talk about sexuality in a way that most people do not. Mainstream media often ignores marginalized communities, such as sex workers. But millions of people are watching porn on a regular basis. At least a fraction of those people are curious enough about specific performers that they want to know more. They search out blogs, personal websites, and social networking accounts. If a performer takes advantage of this, it's as good a way as any to influence cultural debates about sexuality.

Porn is a way for me to live the way I want in a capitalist society based on labor exploitation. I allow my sexuality to be taken advantage of, to be used for whatever purpose a producer sees fit. But I also ask that the producer pay me a livable wage. I perform, on average, ten to fifteen scenes a month. That means I have at least half of every month to write, play music, spend time with my partner, and do whatever else I see fit.

It's a way to make money and stay on the fringe of society. Outside of porn, there's not much opportunity for either one. For me, living this way is important. I like the luxury of time and I don't want to starve. I also don't want to participate in the traditional corporate environment that profits from low-wage workers. Porn is not excluded from this corporate culture, but I believe it provides a relatively happy medium for its workers.  

For me it's neither good or bad. Porn is an experience of unparalled sexual freedom, and it's a restrictive chore. It's a way to touch people's lives, though perhaps not always in the best way possible. But ultimately, it's a way for someone like myself to make a living doing something that feels inherently human. It is MY pornography.