Dirty Sheets

In reading through Erotica Cover Watch’s archives, I was struck again by the weird cognitive dissonance and dichotomy of being female (or at least choosing that as my default gender-identity; that’s another post and possibly another venue entirely though); identifying myself as a feminist; and then also identifying myself as a consumer of pornographic material. Not a whole lot – I’ve purchased exactly one pornographic DVD and it was anime to boot, so – but I look at a fair amount online.

The declaration by Violet Blue starts off with the statement that she refuses to identify herself as a feminist because she doesn’t want to be associated with “[...] such a judgmental, closed-minded, and assumption-crippled point of view.”

See, as far as I understand it, “Feminism is the radical notion that women are people too.” That women, no matter if they’re born with double Xs or not, have as much of a right to exist and work and live and love and BE as any guy does.

The point that Mat and Kristina are trying to make (sometimes politely, sometimes with bitter sarcasm) is that the covers of smutty books aimed at women, supposedly celebrating and “empowering” women, SHOULD NOT REINFORCE THAT WHOLE WOMEN-ARE-OBJECTS THING. Also, it’s a little confusing to have a naked woman (or more often only parts of a woman) on the cover of something that is ostensibly by and for women and features pretty much nothing but het sex.

As I have mentioned, I pretty much just dig people. However, I don’t dig being presented with disembodied and depersonalized (in some cases verging on dehumanized) parts of people. To me, the final cover of the book in contention (at the top of the post) would be a much more effective representation of the interior if it looked less like my bed after a restless night (yes, I sleep with books; I sleep with cats and more pillows than I need and a stuffed animal, too) and more like a woman had just dropped her copy of the book after having given herself a mind-blowing orgasm.

My first thought on seeing the picture was not, ‘ooh, sexy ass!’ or ‘I want that!’. It was ‘ooh, she looks cold – why isn’t she under the covers? What’s going on here?’ Then I was annoyed because once again all we’re presented with is the lower half of a woman. I guess it’s sexy, but frankly, I’m still hung up on the whole ‘isn’t she cold?’ thing.

It’s 2009. I just had a birthday, which means I’ve orbited the sun a whopping 31 times so far. I have known that I’ve been into dudes (and gals) since I was probably about, uh… Seven? Eight? I didn’t have the vocabulary for it, then, because I had no idea that gay people even existed until I was about 12. I have also known, for a very long time, that the idea that I cannot do because of, am rendered incapable by, or am somehow inferior because of the fact that I’ve got a uterus instead of a dick is utter bullshit.

I am huge on fairness – it’s another of the recurring themes in my writing – and the idea that I am less-human, less deserving, less important, less EVERYTHING than a man because I am not a man is vexing, grating, and above all fills me with the fury of a million nova suns.

To be told by the people who want me to buy their stuff that I don’t desire, that I don’t have any interest in being more than looked-at, that I am not worth catering to is deeply galling. I already have enough problems with clothing manufacturers deciding there’s no money to be had in making nice/pretty/cute FLATTERING clothing for those of us with big asses – one of the few things I really really love about being an adult has to join them? Fuck that noise.

Let me tell you about want, about desire, about how much I am an earth sign – remember Marc? If he had asked me, when I was fifteen, to sleep with him? I would have. Never mind that my parents had forbidden me to date until I was sixteen (not a problem with me; no one wanted me anyhow); never mind that at the time I was pretty sure that premarital sex was a one-way ticket to hell. I wanted that, I wanted to yield up my virgin patent to him, I was consumed by desire for him. I would have resigned myself to damnation for a quick fuck that I probably wouldn’t even have enjoyed because I wanted.

I still want. I want, from my toes to my split ends, I want. It doesn’t have to be Marc (though I probably wouldn’t say no, unless he was married, because infidelity is a total buzzkill); hell, my partner doesn’t even have to be a man. I just want. I used to think that wanting was wrong, was something that I wasn’t supposed to do. Where do you suppose I picked up that poisonous little idea?

Fortunately for me, I discovered the internet and I discovered that I was not the only one who wanted. Who thought that a couple of guys together was as hot as anything. Who thought that sex was interesting and arousing and actually not at all evil. I met people who pointed out that plain ol’ vanilla het sex was Not The Only Way. That sex is, can be, and pretty much should be, fun.

So now that I’ve said all of that, I can say this: I’m pretty comfortable now with owning my desire. I can say ‘I want’, even if I don’t ever get to say it in any other venue beyond this. I am an almost perfectly normal human female; I have desire; I like to look at people having sex because it is arousing and leads to orgasms which are nice.

Now, about those people having sex…

So if I’m so big on fairness, and non-objectification, how do I reconcile that with the fact that I look at porn? Even enjoy it, on occasion? ‘Cause if it’s one thing everyone knows about porn, it’s all about the objectification. Right?

Well… I still don’t really know. I choose to believe that the porn of today is made on a far more even footing than most porn has been. I’m sure that this is a very childish and naïve belief, but on the other hand… There are a LOT more women involved in making porn at all levels – choosing porn and choosing the sexual-entertainment industry instead of falling into it by accident or by feeling that they had no choice.

Porn is also a lot better today because there’s a hell of a lot more variety (and not just in Penthouse). Basically, if you’re into it, you can probably find someone to cater to you – behold the power of the ‘net. (Just as an example… I once, a very long time ago, stumbled across a site where people were talking about how hot hirsute women were. Not just natural/untrimmed women; we’re talking lady bears, right down to the hairy faces. I have never forgotten the shock of discovering that there were people out there who might actually find the way I look a turn-on. Shortest of the short versions: PCOD isn’t fun.)

However, the fact remains that there’s still not much in the way of good porn that is aimed at women specifically, intended to engage women in the way that we/they prefer. I have no idea what most other women like, but I know what I like, and what I like is something that treats me like a grown-up who has a brain. Something that acknowledges that women exist as sexual creatures in their own right. Something that I could show to my mother and say, ‘See? Smut’s okay! Really, it’s all right to stop acting like you’re offended when you really would rather say ‘oooh, more please!’, honestly.’ (I love my mother, but…)

That’s the kind of porn company I’d start, if I could. (I need a smutty venture capitalist. Or a very tolerant/flexible sugar-parent of the ridiculously wealthy variety. And to do some research.) Something that would eschew labels in the traditional sense, i.e. click here for gay and click here for straight. Yes, I know, to avoid complete chaos and people posting nasty things on their blogs about the lack of usablility there will have to be SOME way of sorting things out.

Tags are great for this kind of thing – you can tag a video with pretty boys, totally two dudes, m/m, oral, blowjob, muscles and people (no matter what gender/spot on the orientation spectrum they claim) can tell right away if it’s something they’re into. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t say “gay” anywhere, because it’s just not important – all the important stuff has been covered. (Okay, so I don’t think it’s important; if it is I’m sure someone will mention it.)

And now I have run out of steam, have a headache, and need to go eat. Be good, and I’ll see you around.