I Wanna Do Queer Porn…So What?

So, I’m just gonna put it out there, I really want to do queer feminist porn. I’d love to participate in a project similar to the Crash Pad Series or Freedom Porn (which I blogged about earlier on). I want to be able to present my body and sexuality to viewers in a sex- and body-positive way that screams, “it’s good to love sex”! But there’s a problem. I am a white, Jewish, middle class woman being educated at a prestigious women’s college from a fairly wealthy suburb of Boston. I have a bright professional future ahead of me, am extremely active in extra-curricular activities on my campus, and will most likely have a job out of college that pays above minimum wage. Girls like me don’t do porn, right?

Wrong- or so I hope to prove. Porn stars are not just people in dire need of work. They aren’t all “poor,” “low-class,” or “trashy.” Sex workers (especially in feminist/queer porn) are people, just like you and me, who enjoy sex and want to share that enjoyment with the world. People draw most of their conclusions about porn from main-stream, heterosexual porn. While I have great respect for the sex workers that produce that type of porn, it’s simply not for me. I’m not about to be filmed in a disrespectful environment in which I’m being dominated by my partner, simply being utilized for their pleasure in a dynamic in which I hold very little power (don’t get me wrong, I’m all about BDSM and power-play, when in a consensual, healthy environment). I’m also not about to put on silly pigtails and frilly underwear and have sex with another woman while looking at the camera in order to entice my viewers’ fantasies of what lesbian sex really looks like.

When I say queer, feminist porn, I mean being filmed while having real, gritty, hot, consensual sex. I want people to see my body as real- my love handles, large breasts, hidden tattoos, body piercings, hair, sweat, and odors. I want people to see the way I have sex and say, “hey, that’s the way I want to have sex”, and feel empowered to do so. When I first watched an episode of Crash Pad, my entire view of the porn industry was turned around. Porn doesn’t need to be taboo, dirty, or secret.  Porn should celebrate all forms of sexuality and make it open to those who wish to know about it. I want to be a part of that eye-opening experience for people. I don’t want to do porn that is “mere titillating bullshit”, as my close friend Srishti put it, but is instead empowering and sexually liberating.

So, my lovely MSP readers, you might now be asking yourself, “well, if she’s so damn into queer porn, why isn’t she just doing it already?” And, you see, here’s where the problem comes into play. As much as I’d love to dive right into the queer porn industry right now, I am choosing not to. I have a whole lot of goals in my life, and a lot of these center around my career (hopefully as a sex therapist and sexuality/sexual health educator). As much as I wish this weren’t the case, I can’t have people googling my name to research me as a potential therapist and instead click on a video of me having awesome queer sex. Is this something I’m willing to have hang over my head for the rest of my life?

In an attempt to get some varied opinions, I asked some friends what they thought on the subject, and here are the responses I got:

“Well, (according to society) A) There’s something wrong with being “queer” and B) There’s something wrong with “porn”, so C) There’s something VERY wrong with “queer porn” (all in quotes because there’s no satisfactory definition of any of… the three). Personally, I’m not anti- or pro-porn. I’m afraid of it, actually… it makes me extremely uncomfortable and represents everything sex isn’t to me. However, for me to tell others what to do with their bodies and how they can and can’t express and explore their sexuality is, well, wrong (according to me).”

“It’s not about being it being queer porn, because in my opinion, porn is porn… I think sex is supposed to be something private- not something that you broadcast to the entire world. There’s something about porn that takes the romance out of sex.. and in my opinion, porn has a direct negative effect on how women are perceived by men, and can give them extremely wrong impressions or expectations of how women are supposed to look/act in bed. Also- why is there a need to display yourself to everyone? Why is that appealing?Isn’t sharing an intimate, private moment with one person enough? What’s the point in having sex on camera for everyone to see?”

I think, of course, a lot of the stigma against doing porn stems from the fact that our society, much as it touts its liberated status, is incredibly sex-negative. Even when we (and by ‘we’ i mean ‘the united states’ in this case) advocate for various types of birth control and safe sex, the message comes with warnings: sex is dangerous and not to be taken lightly. Further to that point, women are not supposed to enjoy sex. They are, in media, thus far allowed to tease and sexualize themselves, but it is rare for women to be openly allowed to talk about enjoying sex, though I think we’re moving a lot closer to that — thanks be to some pretty kickass women in the media, hollywood, etc.

I think, too, wanting to actively participate in porn is taboo because it is so often seen as degrading to women. And, historically speaking, that’s pretty accurate a lot of the time. But strong-willed, intelligent women like you aren’t supposed to WANT to put themselves in that kind of lowered (forgive the sexist pun) position, let alone even acknowledge that it could be something very empowering.

I also think there is a very clear distinction between strictly heterosexual versus queer porn. power, gender roles… all treated totally differently.”

What do you guys think?

About Michaela

Michaela

Michaela is a recent Seven Sisters graduate with a self-designed degree in Sexuality Studies. When she's not blogging, you'll find her teaching Health and Wellness and A Cappella to high school students, helping women find properly fitting bras, and working as an editor on a documentary. She hopes to continue her education one day with a PhD in Feminist Anthropology.

  • Erader

    I think that if you were to have one “crash pad” experience, it would actually increase your business as a sex/relationship therapist.

    Think about it, the people who see the crash pad are not people who think porn is gross. People who DO see the crash pad are into that kind of stuff and will only feel more open with you. And use a pseudonym so no google record could be pulled up by a more conservative patient.