Now that I can actually stand to peruse it, I decided my thesis needs a home on the internet. Enjoy, or failing that, run the other way cringing in horror at the inaccessibility of academic feminist theory.
Slut or virgin, whore or Madonna, pervert or prude: most contemporary representations of female sexuality have embodied this tired dichotomy. Although feminists have devoted copious time and energy toward resisting sexual stereotypes of women, a similar dichotomy has arisen within the feminist movement. During the “sex wars” of the 1980’s, feminists disagreed sharply regarding the ideology of sex. Pornography was the definitive issue of the sex debates. The lines were sharply drawn between the two camps: radical-libertarian “sex-positive,” feminists, who emphasized the pleasurable or empowering aspects of sexuality, and radical-cultural “anti-pornography,” feminists, who believed the dangerous aspects were more salient. As it often happens in debates, the two sides could not agree upon common terminology to name and define experiences. By describing themselves as, “sex-positive,” pro-pornography feminists imply that anti-pornography feminists are “sex-negative.” It is ironic that although consumption and production of pornography has skyrocketed over the past two decades, there is significantly less feminist discourse and activism surrounding the issue than there was twenty years ago. Feminists much re-open a dialogue around the topic of pornography in order to address pornography’s harmful effects on all women. In order to engage in meaningful debate around the issue, the binary nature of the feminist pornography debates must be reconsidered. Is it possible to create a middle ground where anti- and pro- pornography feminisms can engage? Until “sex-positive” feminists address the underlying fallacy of attempting to re-claim an institution that functions as a tool of male dominance, the answer is no.
Given the broad variety of media representations of sexuality, a definition of terms must be spelled out. There is no legal definition of “pornography.” Rather, there is a three-part test to decide if a material is “obscene.” The scope of this test was defined by the Supreme Court in Roth v. United States (1957). In that case, the courts ruled that obscenity is not constitutionally protected speech when presented within the public domain. The criteria to determine what is “obscene” are as follows.
Taken as a whole, would the average person believe the material appeals to the prurient interest in sex - shameful, morbid or lustful? Would the average person believe the material contains sexual conduct in a patently offensive way? Patently offensive representations or descriptions of ultimate sexual acts, normal or perverted, actual or simulated. Patently offensive representations or descriptions of masturbation, excretory functions, and lewd exhibition of the genitals. Taken as a whole, would a reasonable person believe the material lacks any serious literary, artistic, political or scientific value (Roth v. United States, 1957).
The terms “literary,” “artistic,” “political” and, “scientific” have traditionally been utilized to promote women’s subordination. For example, by defining women’s art as “craft” its economic and cultural value is deemed less than that of men. Therefore, the term, “art,” is problematic when it is applied to a legal definition of “obscenity.” Furthermore, the “reasonable person” standard is also problematic, since most legal standards define “person” as “male” unless they specifically state otherwise. If pornography is produced by and for the consumption of men, their standards regarding what can be deemed obscene will be different than women’s.
Radical feminists, such as Andrea Dworkin and Katherine MacKinnon, view pornography as a tool of patriarchal dominance. Johnson (1997, p. 96) defines patriarchal society as a social system that is “male-centered, male-identified, and male-controlled.” Media representations provide narratives that shape expectations of social roles and interpersonal communication. Kimmel (1991a) argued that pornographic media effectively provides “sexual scripts” to guide intimate experiences. Pornography helps maintain dominance through its adherence to the three tenets of patriarchy. Pornography is male-centered, because its narrative places the sexual needs, wants, and desires of men above those of women. Pornography is male-controlled because it is both consumed by and produced primarily for men. It is male-identified, because it is an arena where men bond over their dominant status and reject the voices of women by sexualizing and objectifying them. Thus, a radical feminist analysis characterizes pornography as a medium to shape sexual expectations of female subordination and male dominance.
MacKinnon and Dworkin (1989) crafted a legal definition of pornography as:
The graphic sexually explicit subordination of women through pictures or words, including by electronic or other data retrieval systems, and shall further include the presentation of women’s body parts, including but not limited to, vaginas, breasts or buttocks, such that women are reduced to such parts or the presentation of women: (a) as dehumanized sexual objects, things or commodities;(b) as sexual objects who enjoy humiliation or pain; (c) as sexual objects experiencing sexual pleasure in rape, incest or other sexual assault;
d) as sexual objects tied up or cut up or mutilated, bruised or physically hurt;(e) in postures or positions of sexual submission, servility or display(f) being penetrated by objects or animals; or (g) in scenarios of degradation, humiliation, injury, torture shown as filthy or inferior, bleeding, bruised or hurt in a context that makes these conditions sexual. The use of men, children or transsexuals in the place of women shall also be deemed to be pornography for purposes of this definition.
If we accept Dworkin and MacKinnon’s definition, pornographic images inherently perpetuate the subordination of women. This definition is useful, because it does not inherently condemn all sexually explicit media. Instead, this definition leaves room to embrace sexually explicit materials which support mutuality instead of domination. Unfortunately, it is impossible to define what is or is not “pornographic,” or “degrading,” in completely objective terms.
MacKinnon (1989) drove her analysis deeper by insisting that pornography is part of a system of oppression that sexualizes dominance. Since male dominance is so persistent and pervasive, women often internalize misogynist ideas and cooperate in their own subordination (MacKinnon, 1989). Attempting to live up to, and defend, masculine ideals of sexuality is merely one coping strategy utilized by women to attempt to control the extent to which they are sexualized within the confines of a rape culture (MacKinnon, 1989). Utilizing a similar rhetoric, Rebecca Whisnant (2007) applied the concept of adaptive preferences to explain how feminists fail to challenge and analyze pornographic discourse. Adaptive preferences can be defined as the process of shaping desires based on a changing perception of reality (Whisnant, 2007). If feminists believe that eradication of pornography is impossible, assimilating into a porn-saturated culture can seem like a sensible strategy (Whisnant, 2007). However, a feminism that fails to challenge deeply held beliefs about gender and sexuality does itself a disservice by limiting possibilities for change. Contemplating the vast and ubiquitous nature of pornography and the sex industry, it is easy to comprehend the temptation to compromise a radical feminist stance in order to feel that one’s goals are achievable. However, feminism has always been about critiquing, challenging, and resisting the dominant order. If feminists can envision a world without patriarchy, can they not also dream of a world free of pornography?
The sexualized dominance inherent in pornographic media also promotes oppressions other than gender. Multicultural feminism dictates that race, class, sexual orientation, age, size, ability status, and other factors intertwine to promote a matrix of oppression. It can be assumed, then, that pornography echoes these dynamics, promoting complex combinations of subordination. Racist stereotypes permeate pornographic discourse. Cowan and Campbell (1994) found that Black men and women are stereotyped as sexually aggressive in interracial pornography. Although the majority of academic studies have focused on Black stereotypes in pornography, it can be assumed that pornography follows the patterns of patriarchal society by utilizing stereotypical portrayals of Asian, Latina, and Native American women to legitimize white supremacy. Other marginalized groups, such as people of size, transsexuals, and differently-abled persons may also find their differences commoditized in pornographic discourse. Furthermore, ageism is also prominent in the porn industry. Young women have the greatest earning potential; as they age female sex workers may find that pay and opportunities decline (Amis, 2004). More content analysis and study is necessary to produce a better understanding of pornography’s role in oppressions other than gender.
Pornography also promotes heterosexism and homophobia by commoditizing lesbian sexuality for male consumption. “Lesbian pornography” capitalizes on lesbianism and female bisexuality by turning them into a male-centered display (Clarke, 2004). Sexual and erotic exchanges between women inherently reject patriarchal dominance and male supremacy by redefining the male-centered construction of sexuality. If women do not require men to achieve sexual intercourse, the perfect ideal of male dominance has been breached. Since pornography is a tool to construct patriarchal sexuality, images of women performing sexual acts with one another for the consumption of a man demonstrates how sexualization can be used to render women less threatening. “Lesbian” pornography, which is produced by and for the consumption of men, relegates the idea of lesbianism to a display, implying that women “really” desire penetrative sex with a man, regardless of what they say. Pornographic discourse redefines images of female-centered sexuality by thrusting men back into the spotlight once more. Thus, the libratory potential of sex between women is removed when lesbianism is fetishized through pornographic discourse. Although a small segment of lesbian pornography is produced by and for lesbians, men can and often do co-opt and consume these images (Whisnant, 2004).
It is important to note that pornography is only one aspect of the multi-billion-dollar sex industry. Connections between pornography, prostitution, and sex trafficking must be noted. The idea that female sexuality is a commodity that exists to be controlled and purchased by men denies sex workers their intrinsic humanity and devalues all women by proxy. Since pornography helps to promote the commoditization of female sexuality, pornography aids and promotes all other aspects of the sex industry. Pornography can also be considered a form of prostitution, because sexuality is being purchased as a commodity, albeit through a camera lens (Whisnant, 2004). Since it is legal to peruse pornography, as well as posing no health or safety risk to the john, many men who would not dream of paying a prostitute have no qualms about pornography consumption (Whisnant, 2004). Many sex workers perform in multiple aspects of the industry, and often move toward lower-paying positions as they age (Amis, 2001). Sex trafficking is also closely intertwined with pornography and prostitution. Once a demand is created for the sexual use of women’s bodies, market economics dictate that a supply will follow. Countless women are trafficked into the sex industry each year. While the issue of “consent” will be addressed later in this paper, it is difficult to draw distinctions between “voluntary” and “forced,” participation in the sex industry, due to the various forms of coercion utilized by traffickers and pimps. Thus, pornography cannot be discussed without an analysis of how prostitution, pornography, and human trafficking are connected to each other and to the larger sex industry.
MacKinnon (1989) postulated further about the nature of sexuality. There is no essential “sex,” instead, how we enact sex is culturally constructed (MacKinnon, 1989). Pornography is a signifier that defines men’s power over women as the sexual imperative (MacKinnon, 1989). Since pornography offers a distorted view of sexuality, consumption of pornographic media imposes this distorted view upon those who consume them. Research has demonstrated that pornography consumption influences both male and female attitudes regarding sex.
The most well-known study on the effects of pornography was conducted by Zillman and Bryant in 1982. The subjects were divided into four groups: no exposure, intermediate exposure, massive exposure, and no prior treatment. These groups viewed different amounts of pornography over a period of six weeks. The “massive exposure” group viewed 48 minutes of pornography a week, and the intermediate group viewed approximately twenty-four minutes of pornography per week. The “no exposure” group viewed only non-pornographic films, and the “No prior treatment” was the control group. Zillman and Bryant (1982) found that pornography exposure caused subjects to overestimate the prevalence of sexual behaviors. For instance, the group with “massive” exposure to pornography estimated that the prevalence of anal sex among adults was 28.5%, while the control group estimated the figure was 12.1% (the actual number was 11.43% (Zillman & Bryant, 1982). Furthermore, Zillman and Bryant (1982) also found that pornography exposure produced differences in attitudes about gender and sexuality. Women and men in the “massive exposure” group recommended significantly less incarceration time for a convicted rapist than those in the “intermediate” and “no exposure” groups (Zillman & Bryant, 1982). These attitudes spilled over into other arenas. For example, subjects in the “massive exposure” group were 37.9% less likely to support the women’s liberation movement (Zillman & Bryant, 1982). Research has not demonstrated a causal link between sexual violence and pornography (Kutchinsky, 1978). However, it is important to note that violence against women goes underreported, and causality is nearly impossible to prove. Pornography’s detrimental effects on the attitudes of those who consume it are negative and significant even if they do not directly cause sexual violence.
Given that pornography depicts a male-centered, male-identified, and male-controlled construction of sexuality, it is not surprising that pornography is primarily produced for males. Sociologist Michael Kimmel (1991a) estimated that males constituted 95% of the market for pornography, the majority of which were heterosexual. Men are the primary producers, as well as consumers, of pornographic images (Kimmel, 2001a). Accurate data regarding the pornography industry is difficult to produce, due to the largely unregulated nature of the industry. Nevertheless, it is apparent that the technological advances of the Internet have expedited pornography proliferation exponentially. Adult Video News, a sex-industry publication, claimed that hard-core video rentals increased from 75 million in 1985 to 490 million in 1992 (Paul, 2005). The numbers continued to rise. In 1996, American spending on pornography was estimated at 8 billion dollars (Paul, 2005). One search engine found that pornographic pages in its database had increased 1,800 % since 1998 (Paul, 2005). Technological increases continue to increase the prevalence of pornographic images. For example, peer-to-peer networks where users can share files between themselves are simple means to expand one’s collection of explicit materials for free (Paul, 2005). On Kazaa, a popular peer-to-peer service, 73% of all movie searches were for pornographic materials (Paul, 2005). Transnational corporations, sensing the potential for profit, have also cashed in on pornography. Comcast Cable, for example, reported 50 million dollars of pornographic revenue in 2002 (Paul, 2005). Hotel chains also capture enormous profits from pornographic videos. It is estimated that pornography accounts for 70% of all in-room revenue in hotels is generated by pornography (Paul, 2005). It is easy to speculate that the involvement of large corporations both serves to legitimize the pornography industry and protect it from the threat of regulation. Furthermore, since the majority of corporations do not publicize their pornography revenues (Paul, 2005), the public will not associate their brand name with profits made from sexually explicit material. Pornography’s position as a global commodity is another factor that renders research difficult. The Internet provides instant access to pornography from anywhere in the world. Furthermore, pornography laws vary vastly from country to country. The global flow of pornography is aided by the vast and unregulated nature of the Internet.
Although the millions of images labeled as adult or pornographic are hardly monolithic, recent studies about the nature of differences across pornographic mediums suggests that technology has contributed to the prevalence of violence in pornography. Sociologists Michael Kimmel and Martin Barron (2000) found that Internet pornography portrayed more violence than videos and magazines. In their study, 24.8% of magazine scenes, 26.9% of video scenes, and 42.1% of Usenet (Internet bulletin board) scenes were found to contain violence (Kimmel & Barron, 2000). In Australia, the most common form of pornography being consumed is still video (McKee, 2005). McKee (2005) found that only 1.9% of the 50 most popular Australian videos contained violence. This marked difference from Barron and Kimmel’s research could be due to Australia’s law prohibiting the sale of videos containing sexually explicit violence, or differing measures used to describe or define “violence.” Or it could be that the Internet has increased instances of Internet violence, as well as Internet technologies, render restriction of access to explicit materials difficult or impossible. Paul (2005) explains how the Internet has led to greater frequency and intensity of pornography consumption, particularly among youths. If young men, as well as women, look to Internet pornography for sexual information, they are more likely to embrace the distorted view that pornography offers (Paul, 2005). Consequently, the negative effects of pornography on youth could be more pronounced. For example, a Swedish study (Haagstrom-Nordin, Hanson, & Tyden, 2006) found that among high school students, pornography consumption was linked to early sexual intercourse (before age 15), anal intercourse, and casual sexual encounters. The Internet has globalized the business of pornography, both in consumption and production, and rapidly expanded its revenues in the process.
A Marxist analysis of the pornography suggests that the pornography industry’s rapid expansion is due to decreased production costs and increased access. The increased prevalence of pornographic materials, as well as the increased in violence and degradation in pornography, warrants an in-depth feminist analysis. If pornography is a tool for the construction of patriarchal sexuality, would men be interested in consuming sexually explicit materials that defy male-centered conventions? In a 2005 study, Paul found that the majority of men were uninterested in the idea of “erotica,” instead preferring to peruse typical Internet pornography. Although more research is necessary, if most men are only willing to consume degrading pornography, how can, “alternative” or “feminist” pornographies truly refute the radical-feminist critique? Can women truly “reclaim” an institution which was meant to maintain female subordination? It is possible that erotica could fulfill a niche in the market for women, or men, who already consider themselves “feminist.” Sexually explicit materials are not inherently negative. However, the economics of supply and demand maintain that as long as there is money to be made by selling female flesh, the sex industry will continue to flourish. The sex industry promotes the idea that female sexuality is a commodity to be purchased, which leads pornography consumers to objectify and dehumanize women. The ways in which women are represented in pornographic media devalues the status of all women. Lowered status produces a dearth of opportunities, which causes more women to enter the sex industry. The industry “uses” women fast, (Amis, 2001) and continually recruits fresh women to keep generating new material. Meanwhile, the videos and pictures produced can be reproduced and sold multiple times. Porn performers are paid relatively little compared to the massive amount of profits generated by a typical film. Despite the radical-feminist idea that pornography can be an empowering medium for self-expression, pornography remains a harmful institution for the majority of women who participate in it, as well as all other women who are objectified by the pornographic discourse.
The radical feminist discourse clashes strongly with the “sex-positive” branch of feminism. Sex-positive feminists emphasize the libratory and empowering potentials of sex. Although “sex-positive” does not necessarily equate with a pro- or anti-pornographic stance, the majority of feminist literature paints a binary picture with prudish feminists on the other side and pervert feminists on the other. Nevertheless, the “sex-positive” feminists who have garnered the most attention are those who support pornography.
The most prominent academic sex-positive feminist, Gayle Rubin (1984), claimed that radical-cultural feminists are attempting to proscribe what sexual behaviors are acceptable and which are not. She argued that both anti-pornography feminists and mainstream political values embodied a hierarchal model of sexuality (Rubin, 1984). The only difference between mainstream ideology and anti-pornography feminist values lies in which acts are deemed positive or negative (Rubin, 1984). According to Rubin, (1984) the dominant culture values married, heterosexual, consensual, reproductive sex, and devalues any other kind of sexual expression. Rubin (1984) claimed that feminists merely want to substitute “lesbian,” for heterosexual, and thus fail to change the rest of the attributes of the sexual hierarchy. Rubin also supports pornographic expression. She asserted (1984) that feminist critiques of pornography focus on the most egregious examples of female subordination. Whether or not this was true during feminism’s “sex wars” of the 1980’s, studies have generally shown that violence and degradation in pornography have increased with the advent of the Internet (Kimmel & Barron, 2000). Rubin’s (1984) pivotal argument analyzed the issue of consent. Sexuality, she argued (1984), should not be regulated, as long as there is consent between both parties. Consent is not a binary mode of discourse. For example, if one consents to a certain sex act, consent to other acts is not automatically implied.
Some “sex-positive” feminists believe that the viewing and creation of sexually explicit media can be empowering for people of all genders. There are several well-recognized pornographers that identify as feminist: Carol Queen, Pat Califia, and Valerie Jenness (Stark, 2004). Sprinkle is widely known for performance art pieces in which she masturbated on stage and let individual audience members view her cervix (Garrison, 2003). Her performances are provocative and controversial, and could be considered, “art.” Sprinkle, who entered the sex industry as a porn star and prostitute, makes few distinctions between the traditional pornography she has participated in and her “art.” She positions all forms of sexual media expression as learning experiences forging the path to a deeper understanding of the self, stating that, “Pornography, in it’s purist form, could be a path to enlightenment,” (Garrison, 2003). Although she feels “empowered” by the public images she has constructed pertaining to her sexuality, Sprinkle fails to address the connections between pornographic representations of women and male control of women’s sexuality in a patriarchal culture, as well as the connections between pornography, prostitution, rape, and sex trafficking. In an interview with “anti-porn” feminist Mae Tyme, Sprinkle denied the prevalence of child pornography.
You realize that child pornography is the number one argument that is consistently used against all of us decent pornographers who are simply trying to make people feel good and turned on. There’s maybe .01% of porn made which involves children, and it is not readily available for sale. I challenge you to find any commercial child porn anywhere in the USA (Sprinkle & Tyme, 2003).
Sprinkle characterizes her time in the sex industry as,
A learning experience: learning what I do and don’t want to do, how to say No [sic], learning what I like and what I don’t like. …I think that if I was a victim, in a sense I was just as responsible as the victimizer – that sounds harsh, but whenever that happened I’m sure I created a lot of it. So I take responsibility for any exploitation that occurred (Garrison, 2003).
Despite the lukewarm endorsement, Sprinkle generalizes her own experiences in the sex industry as positive. Unfortunately, she offers no recourse for the differing experience of others. In a 1995 interview, Sprinkle professed little sympathy for survivors of sexual abuse.
A lot of people use their rape experiences, or the fear of rape, to keep them in a cage. Because they were raped or abused at five years old, that means they don’t have to enjoy sex as an adult - how convenient! They’re so afraid of their sexuality that they’ll use any excuse not to enjoy it (Brown & McClen Novick, 1995).
Sprinkle claims she has never been raped: she re-framed all of her sexual experiences as positive. (Brown & McClen Novick, 2005).
I
was hitchhiking and got picked up by five guys. They gave me some drugs and took me out into the desert and we had a big orgy and I knew, if I didn’t enjoy this, I was going to have a terrible time. So I got off on the adventure (Brown &McClen Novick, 2004).
Although Sprinkle’s emphasis on sexuality as liberating or empowering is admirable, she trivializes the experiences of vast numbers of women who have been forced into the industry. In a study surveying 854 prostitutes in nine countries (Farley et al, 2003) found that 68 % of sex workers met the criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder, and 89% wanted out of the industry. Even women who have not been trafficked or enslaved may only be in the industry for lack of better options. The more oppressed a woman is, the fewer choices she has. Sex workers are disproportionately lower class women and women of color, two historically and significantly oppressed groups of women. For example, Farley (2004) found that 57% of prostitutes in Vancouver identified themselves as African-Canadian or native Canadian (First Nations) women. That statistic demonstrates a significant over-representation of women of color. Pornography and prostitution constitute a doubly harmful system for women of color: pornography serves to devalue their status in both gendered and racial terms, and this very devaluation leads them to be frequently targeted for recruitment into the industry itself. Thus, women of color and lower class women are more likely to perceive sex work as a necessity, not a liberating or empowering choice. The recent surge of feminist sex workers that label their decision as a “choice” have been mostly middle- or upper-class white women. How can “sex-positive” feminists champion a feminism which speaks only to a select minority of privileged women, while ignoring the experiences of a majority of sex workers? Furthermore, Whisnant (2004) suggested that the concept of choice should not be the most important aspect of analysis regarding women in the sex industry. Choice, according to Whisnant (2004), is always tempered by the circumstances surrounding it, and can be conceptualized as a continuum from absolute coercion to complete “choice” (Whisnant, 2004). While “choice” is preferable to “coercion,” the contexts in which commercial sexual transactions occur, as well the effects of sexual commoditization on others, should be the foremost consideration (Whisnant, 2004). It is also important to note that coercion occurs in a variety of forms. Economic, political, and social coercion are all factors which promote a flow of marginalized women into the sex industry.
The sex debates have often degenerated into mud-slinging contests. Even within the feminist movement, anti-pornography feminists have often been personally attacked as prudish or repressed (Stark, 2004). The harmful effects of pornography, rather than a personal sense of disgust or obscenity motivates anti-pornography feminists; a fact which is often misunderstood by sex-positive feminists (Whisnant, 2004). Anti-pornography feminists often support sexually explicit materials that promote a mutual expression of desire. For example, Gloria Steinem (1993, p. 238), defines erotica as “Images [with] mutual pleasure and touch and warmth, an empathy for each other’s bodies and nerve endings, a shared sensuality and a spontaneous sense of two people who are there because they want to be.” Furthermore, anti-porn feminists do not condemn sex workers themselves; rather, anti-pornography feminists aim to break down the industry that exploits them (Stark, 2004). Former sex workers have undertaken a great deal of feminist activism to challenge the industry and support those attempting to leave (Stark, 2004).
One example of feminist activism against the sex industry is GEMS. Founded by Rachel Lloyd, a survivor of human trafficking, GEMS serves young women who have left the sex industry through counseling, mentoring, referrals, and training (What is Commercial, 2003). GEMS understands the complex factors which draw young women into the sex industry, as well as the multi-faceted support necessary to bring them out of it (What is Commercial, 2003). A history of abuse, low socioeconomic status, prior involvement with law enforcement, and non-white skin color are factors which often lead women into the sex industry (What is Commercial, 2003). GEMS treats these young women as victims, rather than criminals (Our Mission, 2003). GEMS mission is to fight commercial sexual exploitation of children. By labeling these victims as “commercially sexually exploited children,” instead of, “teen prostitutes,” GEMS demonstrates the ways in which women and children in the sex industry lack agency (What is Commercial, 2003). During a conference focused on Colorado’s response to human trafficking, Lloyd argued that the glamorization of “pimp and ho” culture leads to social validation of trafficking and sexual exploitation of children (Yale, 2007). For example, “It’s Hard Out There for a Pimp,” from the movie Hustle and Flow, won the Academy Award for Best Original Song 2006. Lloyd wondered if the song would have had the same impact if it had been called, “It’s Hard Out there for a Trafficker,” instead (Yale, 2007). Lloyd also emphasized the interconnected nature of the sex industry. “Society says it’s okay to look at porn and go to strip clubs. Porn is getting more and more violent and when men watch it, it becomes a fantasy that they want to act out,” she explained (Yale, 2007). By challenging the language surrounding human trafficking, analyzing the parallels between pornography and sexual exploitation, and utilizing supportive strategies, such as mentoring, GEMS has become an innovative resource to challenge the sex industry and empower survivors. GEMS attempts to give sexually exploited girls the support they need to escape while they are still young.
The boundaries between pornography and erotica, art and obscenity are tricky to define and open to interpretation. Due to the individualistic nature of socially constructed sexuality, what falls into each category may vary widely from one person to the next. Furthermore, attempting to label and critique pornography is perceived as an attempt to label and critique sexuality itself. It must be understood, however, that pornography’s prominent role in the public sphere opens it to examination. Pornography is produced in the public sphere, yet consumed mostly in the private. The proscriptive and constructive role of sexually explicit media must be critiqued precisely because they influence personal constructions of sexuality, as well as power relations between men and women.
Pornography discourse has often focused on the issue of free or protected speech. While attempts to definite “pornography” are not meant to be proscriptive, the act of naming a concept effectively transforms the meaning and purpose. By attempting to define and critique pornography, are radical feminists attempting to set the standards for what is considered “healthy” sexual behavior? No, because the act of creating pornography through simulated or real sexual acts places them into public domain. Pointing a camera at a sexual act transforms the meaning of the act itself. Sexuality viewed through the lens of media opens itself up into a different kind of critique. Although these pornographic media enter and affect what occurs in private domain, attempts to name, define, and categorize media depictions of sexuality are a matter of public discourse. Pornographic media are created and distributed with a specific purpose in mind, but the effects they produce linger outside the sphere of sexual expression. “Pornography is political…it brings the hidden, private world of male sexual pleasure into the public arena of political discussion,” (Kimmel, 1991b, p. ix). Furthermore, Levy (2005) argued that the ubiquity of pornographic sexual expression dictates sexual norms. Pornographers dictate what can be considered normal sexual expression, while feminist struggles against pornography seek to erase the sex industry’s proscription. In a porn-free culture, individuals would experience greater freedom to explore their own sexual desires, instead of internalizing pornographic ideologies (Levy, 2005). The fight against pornography’s influence holds great libratory potential to redefine sexual ideology.
Opponents of anti-pornography feminism claimed that anti-pornography laws essentially promote censorship. Censorship is a valid concern for feminists. Since the government is also male-centered, male-identified, and male-controlled, it is not likely that placing control of sexually explicit media in the hands of legislators would aid feminist struggles. The MacKinnon/Dworkin (1989) amendment, however, did not aim to regulate the creation of pornography. Instead, the amendment allowed those who had experienced “harm” from pornography the opportunity to sue pornographers. MacKinnon and Dworkin’s (1989) strategy was ultimately unsuccessful, because the amendment was deemed unconstitutional. The government’s current definition of “obscenity” is impractical. Pornography’s prevalence renders the legality of “community standards” impossible to enforce. Nevertheless, increased regulation of the creation and distribution of pornography could increase safety for porn performers.
Attempts to regulate the industry are met with great hostility, due to the enormous profits of pornographers, new technologies, and pornography’s position in the “private” sphere. To stop the transnational flow of pornography would require a massive cooperative effort of global law enforcement. Technology has decreased production costs and increased distribution, rendering pornography a highly globalized commodity. For example, Japanese women were trafficked to Hawaii to perform for a pornographic website targeted toward Japanese men (Hughes, 2004). The technology of the World Wide Web and video chat allowed the pornographers to skirt Japan’s stricter pornography laws (Hughes, 2004). Even child pornography, a practice considered by most countries to be objectionable, has flummoxed international law enforcement agencies by utilizing new technologies (Hughes, 2004). Until pornography is perceived as a problem, commercial sexual exploitation of women and children will continue unchecked on an international scale.
All pornography is not created equal. Even within the mainstream pornographic discourse, there are many categories. The differences within genres and sub-genres of pornography have yet to receive serious scholarly investigation. The differences both lie within mediums and genres. Although “feminist” pornography or erotica is produced with women or couples in mind, a vast amount of sexually explicit materials fall under the MacKinnon/Dworkin (1989) definition. Within the pornographic genre, how do the alternatives, differ? “Alternative pornography” is usually produced by smaller companies that attempt to provide alternative’s to mainstream pornography’s aesthetic, narrative, and ethical practices (Mies, n.d.). Some “alternative” pornography is marketed as “feminist,” or at least, “sex-positive,” yet still maintain the subordination of women, albeit more subtly. These distortions can often be more dangerous, because they entrap people who would be likely to understand the harm caused by mainstream pornography. The most popular “alternative” pornography company is Suicide Girls. A feminist analysis of the Suicide Girls website can exemplify the issues inherent in attempting to “reclaim” a male-controlled institution.
Suicide Girls claims to be “a vibrant, sex positive community of women (and men), Suicide Girls was founded on the belief that creativity, personality and intelligence are not incompatible with sexy, compelling entertainment,” (About, 2007). The site is paid-access only, with a layout similar to that of many other social networking sites. Users can request to be “friends” with one another, leave public “comments” on each other’s sites, and send private messages to each other. The site’s members are the models, dubbed “Suicide Girls,” themselves, others employees of the company, and paying members of the public. In addition to the photographs, Suicide Girls also features interviews, music, message boards, and a store.
The models are encouraged to utilize their profiles to showcase their “personalities,” by displaying their interests and writing in their journals. This is intended to give a voice to the women in the photographs. However, reducing oneself to a profile with a few key attributes is not necessarily empowering, since the main focus of the website is the nude photographs. Even Playboy typically accompanies its centerfolds with an interview. The attributes listed in the profile serve to further emphasize the sexual aspects of the models. Part of the profile includes a section about favorite sexual positions, first sexual experience, fantasies, crushes, and sexual orientation. The images, and the women, are primarily there to be looked at and sexualized. If a Suicide Girl wants to quit, her photographs will not be removed from the site (FAQ, 2007). Only her journal is removed, rendering her another voiceless naked woman.
The primary focus of the website is naked photographs of the women. The photographs are displayed in, “sets,” of 45-65 pictures where the model starts out fully clothed and gradually undresses during the sequence of the pictures. Full nudity is required for two-thirds of the photographs in a set. However, “overtly sexual or spread shots” are not required (FAQ, 2007). Since Suicide Girls is a more “soft” or “erotic” site, penetration shots are not accepted. Purportedly, the women possess greater agency than a typical nude model. For example, the women can select the photographer they want to work with, pick the theme of their “set,” and choose how they want to be posed. Furthermore, the women select which photographs will be submitted to the site.
The Suicide Girls are, however, paid comparatively little for their work. The current compensation is $500 per set (FAQ, 2007). Only one set may be submitted at a time. Since Suicide Girls is a networking site, the women whose sets are in greater demand must spend time online to make contacts and increase popularity. This online time is not financially compensated.
On the First Tour DVD, the Suicide Girls talk about utilizing modeling and stripping as a way to boost their self-esteem. “I’m not some crazy ‘oh my god I’m fat and ugly’ kind of girl, but I mean, everyone sees their flaws a lot worse than anyone else would look at them. So whenever I see the photos that come out, I feel fantastic. It makes me feel really good (Suicide, 2004),” said model Tegan.
“I feel sexy when I get naked on camera…especially when you’re young, and still look good, you should exploit that part, and enjoy it, because it doesn’t last forever in the grand scheme of things, (Suicide, 2004),” explained Sicily, another model. Sicily’s comment illustrates the pervasiveness of ageism in the sex industry.
However, although the women featured in Suicide Girls have tattoos, body piercings, and unique hairstyles, the majority of them fit most of the other typical Western beauty standards. Most of the models are white and thin, although the website claims that “women of color are encouraged to apply, (FAQ, 2007)”. Tweaking the attributes deemed “sexy” does little to challenge the mandate that a woman’s appearance is the most important thing about her. Furthermore, the models that are tagged on the site as “curvy,” are often posed differently for their sets. “Chloe,” for example, displays no overall shots of herself in her set, titled Heart to Heart (2007). Instead, she is depicted as a fragmented series of parts: arms, buttocks, breasts, face (Heart to Heart, 2007). Since the women and the photographers work together to select poses, it can be assumed that fragmentation reflects common Western hegemonic beauty standards. Fragmentation serves to dehumanize women, and is also a common pornographic technique. The models are frequently depicted in subordinate positions. The women choose to pose themselves submissively, passively gazing at the camera as their bodies are displayed for critique.
SuicideGirls also allows women to appear together in sets, which is known as a “multi.” “Multis” often include the women kissing and fondling each other. Scrutinizing the Suicide Girls through their intended lens, the male gaze, it can be assumed that “multis” are capitalizing on the fetishization of lesbian sexuality.
In 2005, over 40 Suicide Girls quit, alleging verbal harassment from one of the founders, Sean Suhl (Fulton, 2005). Former model Jennifer Caravella, aka Sicily, told the Portland Phoenix,” What’s going on right now is a slap in the face to feminism. If SuicideGirls portrayed themselves as Hustler, or Playboy, that would be fine, whatever — people have the right to make their own choices. But don’t pretend to be alternative (Fulton, 2005).”
Sicily’s comment is an interesting contrast to her interview on the First Tour DVD, where she states, It’s entertaining. We have created an environment where people are having fun, letting loose. It’s satisfying and it feels good,” (2004). Another former Suicide Girl, Dia, agrees, adding, “It’s exploitational [sic] to women, and abusive,” she says, “because it lures women in with a marketing scheme that purports feminism, when in actuality the sole owner of the company is an active misogynist.” Dia and Sicily are just two of many former sex workers that are now working against the sex industry. Although a comprehensive list of activist efforts of former sex workers falls outside the scope of this paper, here are a few examples: Linda Marciano, AKA Linda Lovelace of Deep Throat fame (Steinem, 1995), Rachel Lloyd of GEMS, and Carol Smith of the Mary Magdalene project (Simonton, 2004) are all former sex workers that are now speaking out against the industry. If sex work is, indeed, empowering, why are so many former sex workers organizing to fight it?
The Suicide Girls business model has proven to be financially successful. The site claims (About, 2007) to have over 200,000 members, as well as more than 1,000 models, two DVD’s, a book, and a clothing line. A cornucopia of copycat sites, such as godsgirls.com, were quick to emanate Suicide Girls’ tactics (Fulton, 2005). Although there does appear to be a market for “alternative” pornography, even “alternative” porn is male-centered, male-identified, and male-controlled. The Suicide Girls may claim to be “empowered,” but they are still subjected to the male gaze, and thus help to subtly reinforce the tenets of female subordination.
Since the most popular “alternative” pornography site is less than feminist under the surface, it is important to analyze “feminist” sites that do explicitly identify as such. Nofauxxx.com (2004) boldly proclaims, “Hot radical porn made by ladies, queers, and artists from around the world! No Fauxx is artistic, political, and all-inclusive, featuring models of all genders and sizes.” This site attempts to adhere to all of the tenets of feminism: it contains people of all sizes, abilities, sexual orientations, and races (Mission, 2004). Furthermore, No Fauxx (2004) de-centralizes women from the pornographic discourse. The site’s designers clearly understand the role of language in shaping gender perceptions.
No Fauxx has no “boy” and “girl” categories, and for a reason. We believe that, for many people, genitals have nothing to do with gender or gender expression. We do have many trans and genderqueer models, and we ask that you respect them by referring to them by their preferred pronouns, (nofauxxx.com, 2004).
No Fauxx is also sensitive to other feminist topics, such as cultural appropriation (i.e. Mohawks and dreadlocks) and safer sex (Mission, 2004). Unfortunately, No Fauxx has not received much attention from the mainstream press. It has been endorsed by several feminist magazines and e-zines, and featured in several porn review sites (Nofauxx, 2004). Suicide Girls, in contrast, have been mentioned in Spin, Rolling Stone, CBS, HBO, MTV, FOX, CNN, G4, VH1, ABC, and Showtime (Press, 2007). Again, the male-centered nature of the sex industry renders a feminist transformation of the industry an impractical solution by marginalizing, co-opting, or in this case, ignoring sexually explicit media which do not fit the patriarchal paradigm of sexualized domination.
The “feminist sex wars” are ultimately a debate of values. One side insists that sexual danger is more important; the other emphasizes pleasure. Unfortunately, the “pleasures” of sex-positive feminisms are often limited to white, female, middle-or upper class sex workers. Even the few who seek empowerment through sexuality must acknowledge that if they allow dissemination of sexualized images of themselves in the public sphere, these images can be co-opted to support male supremacist values. A truly “sex-positive” feminism must address the needs of women and children trafficked into prostitution and pornography. How can any women be free while some women are enslaved? How can the “pleasure” of the few be considered more important than the suffering of so many more? “When sex radicals promote pornography and prostitution as feminist, they are acting against the sexual freedom of women and children and they become complicit in the abuse of women and children (Stark, 2004, p. 290).”
Qualitative research demonstrates that feminist attitudes about pornography are not as polarized as most literature. It is possible to bridge the figurative chasm between anti-pornography and sex positive feminisms by redefining sex-positivity. The issues of feminist representation in the pornographic sphere and sexual exploitation of women in the larger sex industry can be tackled separately. I interviewed a group of self-identified “sex-positive” feminists within the Denver feminist community. One explained that to her, sex positive feminism means, “defining healthy sex for yourself. Letting others define their idea of healthy sex.” Another woman defined sex-positivity as, “An honest and compassionate exploration of desire and sexuality with an open heart and an open mind.” Even though the majority of feminist literature presents a rigid dichotomy between “sex-positive” and “anti-pornography,” feminisms, reality is often more fluid and complex. As one feminist explains,
Being sex positive does not mean you are for porn or against it. ?It means you are sex positive. I also think we as feminists are looking at sex from a violent and oppressive standpoint. Sex has been for so long associated with violence and rape, when the two are very different things (personal interview, 2007).
All of the feminists who were interviewed believed that since the sex industry possesses such a pervasive influence, reform is a more viable strategy than attempting to eliminate pornography altogether.
Porn does not create sexists, it gives space to perpetuate sexist beliefs that are already there. We are going to have porn no matter what, making it illegal is not going to do shit except for increase the amount of child porn out there…it is up to us as women to start the fight. We can, and have created a positive industry and alternatives to the mainstream porn that is out there. We are working to break down these walls, but we can’t change everyones [sic] minds. We can do our best to educate people on better alternatives,” stated one woman (personal interview, 2007).
“The more women in the sex industry who refuse to be degraded and abused, the less we will see children replicating these acts as they see them on their parents porno’s,” stated another self-identified sex positive feminist(personal interview, 2007). One woman thought that the feminist discourse surrounding pornography could be elevated if feminists would, “lift up the contributions of women in the sex industry who are putting females as the subjects, not the objects. (personal interview, 2007).” Transformation versus elimination seems to be the biggest chasm separating feminists who identify as “sex-positive” from anti-pornography activists. Rather than advocating a strategy that runs the danger of being co-opted, feminists should envisage eradicating the roots of the problem. Pornography promotes the ideal that women’s bodies are for sale. Therefore, pornography devalues all women. Instead of attempts toward reform, feminists should work toward eliminating pornography.
The sample group of pro-pornography feminists also freely acknowledged the dangers inherent in sexuality.
When women are fully sexually empowered in a male-dominated patriarchal society where rape is an excusable act, sex-positive feminists (especially sex workers) can plant the seeds of rape-tolerance (or worse, acceptability) in the minds of feeble, yet power hungry men. (which [sic] can then lead to rape being justifiable in the eyes of the masses) (personal interview, 2007).
Another woman said, “You will also never find a “sex-positive” feminist who is okay with child porn or forced sex within porn. This is not porn, this is violence and we should do everything we can to stop violence (personal interview, 2007).”
By analyzing the content of these interviews, it could be argued that the most prominent sex-positive feminists, such as Annie Sprinkle, represent an extreme position within the sex-positive movement itself. Nevertheless, the work of Sprinkle and other sex-positive feminists is frequently cited in the mainstream media. If sex-positive feminists fail to describe exactly what they mean by “sex-positivity,” they are in danger of supporting patriarchal pornography. A careful and nuanced approach to “sex-positive” feminism must address sex trafficking, racism, homophobia, economic coercion, and the connections between prostitution, pornography, and other forms of sex work. Unfortunately, the patriarchal culture that promotes pornography would be unlikely to promote a “sex-positive” feminism that does not identify with patriarchal ideals. Instead, the media latches onto icons like Sprinkle and the Suicide Girls to avoid challenging white and male supremacist ideals.
Despite the myriad legal, technical, and financial issues which must be addressed in order to fight the sex industry, anti-pornography feminists must not become discouraged. Shaping public discourse to view pornography as a harmful social practice is the first step toward eradicating its influence. Anti-pornography feminists must shatter antiquated stereotypes that they are against sex. Feminists must unbind pornographic discourse from its position as a definitive embodiment of sexuality. Since feminism claims that the personal is political, the first step is tackling these issues on a personal level. Feminists must engage in dialogue with each other, and analyze the impact of pornography on their own relationships. Feminist men have a responsibility to speak out to other men about harm caused by pornography, since their male privilege grants their voices greater legitimacy.
Divisions have always occurred within the feminist movement. These debates grant the movement greater depth and complexity. The sex debates are not as polarizing as them seem at first glance; however, proponents of the current and popular “sex-positive” rhetoric must address its fallacies. A feminism that claims to “empower” a minority of women, while propagating pain, suffering, and misery for the majority, must carefully examine its tenets. Although feminism has been much maligned by the media, changing its tenets to make it more marketable, fun, sexy, or is unacceptable. Whisnant (2007) characterized the current popularity of pro-pornography feminism as one of the major failings of Third Wave Feminism. Whisnant (2007) argued that,
A feminism that acquiesces to certain key male entitlements, while simultaneously presenting itself as bold and liberated and rebellious, is likely to be appealing to many women. A version of feminism that supports girls’ and women’s desired self-conception as independent and powerful, while actually requiring very little of them as far as confronting real male power, will similarly have wide appeal.
The pitfalls of transforming the sex industry from within are more dangerous than the radical notion of eradicating pornography. “Feminist,” pornography lacks the features that render pornography appealing to dominant groups. Furthermore, “sex-positive” feminists run the risk of being complicit in female subordination when the mainstream media misrepresents their ideas. The bottom line is: pornography is a tool by which white, male, heterosexual supremacy is maintained. “Sex-positive” feminism, if it includes a generalized, “pro-pornography,” stance, dilutes the tenets of radical feminism by promoting the pleasure of dominant groups over that of subordinate “Others.”
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