The Guardian reports something incredibly stupid

I’m going to avoid anything inflammatory here, but let me put a giant trigger warning on that link - it gets really ugly towards the end. One of the less explicit areas, which adequately summarises the article:

Sue Berelowitz told the home affairs select committee that social networking sites and the use of pornography was one of the key areas she was examining in an investigation of group and gang child sexual exploitation. Her inquiry had already revealed that such exploitation was taking place across the country in urban, rural and metropolitan areas. “It is violent, it is sadistic, it is very, very ugly,” she told MPs on Tuesday.

In fairness, The Guardian is still attempting to be objective on this by just reporting what an authority figure (Berelowitz) is saying on a subject she likely knows little about. The headline, however -

Access to online porn ‘twisting children’s view of sexual norms’

doesn’t exactly allow for the same degree of nuance.

This fucking story has been reported everywhere. The tabloids are being just as alarmist as you’d expect them to be - I’m not going to link to the stories by the Daily Mail and Express, but it’s likely what you’re already thinking of.

Here’s what’s wrong with it: it’s taking something as delicate as human psychology and reducing it to simple cause and effect. Kids watch porn, so kids sexually assault other kids. That’s stupid. It’s stupid because it ignores dozens of other factors - social class, upbringing, attempts by authority figures to draw a distinction between fantasy and reality, and honest and open sex education. The fact remains that there are millions of parents who never talk to their kids about sex (mine are part of that group), thousands of schools whose approach to sex ed is fucked (most religious schools in this country, of which there are a fuckton, can teach sex and religious education however they want), and a ton of social factors that contribute to a climate where sexual violence is on the verge of being legitimised. But obviously, we can’t talk about that. Not in the media, which is part of that social background. Tabloids can’t tell stuffy, indignant parents that they’re fucking their kids up, because then they can’t sell papers. The porn industry - largely US-based, with no financial contribution or emotional stake in the future of the news media - is an easy scapegoat.

Do I think porn’s harmless? No. Probably not. I don’t think young kids should watch porn, but I think the supposed “over-18” limit is really stupid, especially considering that the age of consent in this country is 16. I believe there’s such a thing as moderation, too. Porn can be addictive, more so than other media. It doesn’t have to be, but it can be.

Fundamental to the appreciation of any art is understanding its limits - knowing that it can throw a light on and inform our understanding of the world, but that it is ultimately a particular representation with its own biases. Most porn - even the good stuff - still thinks in terms of a male gaze, where tits and asses fill the screen and cocks are often reduced to just that - disembodied penises intended as a surrogate for the (supposedly male) viewer. And it’s endemic, too - that most people can probably name a handful of female porn stars and at most one male (I’m thinking James Deen, and yes, I know the names of a bunch of others, but I have the weird sort of fascination with porn that Hunter S. Thompson had with politics) probably isn’t great.

But what about alternative porn, or some of the work that Kink.com produces, or the wealth of queer porn you can find after a bit of digging? Sure - in terms of its prevalence it’s like European art cinema against blockbuster behemoths, but it’s still porn. That stuff isn’t harmful.

Neither is the tacky male-gaze stuff completely bad, and you’d have to be very careful to suggest that it leads to an increase in sexual violence (and not say anything that Berelowitz said). I’ve learned a lot from conventional porn. I’ve learned that pain can be fun - both to give it and receive it. I’ve learned how people’s bodies work, to an extent - watch it for long enough and you start to tell who’s faking it, and who isn’t (protip: there are a lot of fake orgasms in porn). I’ve learned how to tease and be teased. It was the combination of being in a relatively stable relationship and the ability to furtively check porn sites that made up the bulk of my sexual education, and - while I’m by no means an expert - it’s helped me get in touch with myself.

Here’s the key, though - porn does sex best. Sexual violence, as the noun suggests, is violence first and foremost. To suggest that the majority of pornography is rape is disgusting, and betrays the sort of thinking that someone who formed their opinion of a multi-million dollar industry on the back of a thirty-year-old interview with Linda Lovelace might have. And I’m not naïve - we live in a culture that blurs the distinction between the two on a day-to-day basis (oh, look, I wrote about that recently) - but there is still a jump between saying “a kid is watching some actors have exaggerated sex” and “a kid believes it’s okay to rape someone”. There are dozens of factors that encourage that line of thinking a hell of a lot more. There’ll be a lot to get through, but it might be a good idea to start with newspapers that objectify women every single fucking day.

Fifty Shades of Post-Mortem

Look: I’m not going to review Fifty Shades of Grey, because any sort of deep thought about that piece of bile would be a waste of my time, but here’s my key problem with it: it pathologises BDSM, and that’s something I’m extremely uncomfortable with.

For those unfamiliar with the novel (spoilers for a bad book ahead), it concerns the relationship between college undergraduate Anastasia Steele and billionaire CEO Christian Grey. Anastasia has the sort of preconceptions about BDSM that my parents probably do; Christian Grey is a full-on kinkster, with a history of D/s relationships. All good so far - vapid, dull, but good.

And then there’s the ending.

For a book about BDSM, Fifty Shades isn’t very kinky. There’s a lot of growling and threats, but that’s all that it really comes down to - there’s a lot of sex, and not much else. Christian only physically hurts Anastasia on two occasions, and both times they’re treated awfully - the word abuse is never mentioned, but Anastasia’s entire reaction makes it clear that she thinks of it that way. The novel ends with the two going their separate ways, with Anastasia essentially calling Christian a freak because he enjoys causing pain to those who give their consent.

Even so, leaving it at this, it might still be okay. All you end up with at the end of that is two people from different worlds, who end up fundamentally sexually incompatible.

But - maybe because it’s actually E. L. James, former TV executive, wife and mother of two kids is the one who’s “fifty shades of fucked up”, but in order for Christian Grey to have this desire to hurt people who want to feel pain, he has to have a traumatic past. His mother was a crack whore who stubbed out cigarettes on his chest. He has a fear of being touched - something that isn’t resolved in the first book (I have no intention of reading the rest), but is presumably due to some past trauma.

He was a submissive in a relationship with an older woman - something that James, to her credit, portrays as consensual when spoken through Grey’s voice, but when we move back to Anastasia’s internal monologue, that same woman becomes an evil bitch, a pedophile, a child abuser and so on. Granted, there’s some room for debate here - the relationship in question begins when Christian’s fifteen, a year before the age of consent in this country - but Anastasia’s idiotic mind (with whom we’re supposedly intended to empathise) paints it as a very black and white issue.

Anastasia doesn’t like pain in the way that you and I don’t like being mugged - not in the way that a submissive doesn’t like pain. Anyone who’s actually been in a healthy BDSM relationship before understands the idea of being mind-fucked - believe it or not, very few of us are fully behind the idea of giving or receiving pain, but there’s a thrill in it, or an adrenaline rush, or a psychological instinct, or even just a sheer contrast with any reward that supplies the pleasure. And that’s great! As someone who flits between both, there’s a straightforward appeal for those who like that sort of thing. Anastasia just doesn’t like pain. Any time it gets intense - and, it should be said, not safe-word intense, but just pain to the point of being painful rather than “sensual” - she feels like running “screaming for the hills”.

The worst part, though, is how Christian’s desire to be a dominant supposedly directly stems from his traumatic past. And look: I’m not naïve. I’m aware that there are more people with past trauma in kink communities than elsewhere, and I’m aware that BDSM can be a way to assert control you’ve never had, or give up control that’s ever-present. The stereotypes of the girl with daddy issues who gets off on spanking her partners until they cry, or the male executive who wants nothing more than to be tied up and have his balls beaten until he nearly blacks out? They exist, just as any stereotype exists.

But look: I am twenty-one years old, and I’m fairly well-adjusted. I don’t have a fuck-you attitude when it comes to the rest of the world, I have great parents, and I enjoy my life, quiet as it is. And I’m into all that stuff. It’s fun! It’s jolly! It builds trust! I can think of dozens of healthy, not-motivated-by-bad-stuff-in-my-past reasons why BDSM’s great. E. L. James apparently can’t. Christian Grey’s a kinkster because he’s fifty shades of fucked up, and anyone who thinks that you can be well-adjusted and into pain - well, they’re just wrong.

Fuck E. L. James. Fuck the people who think that a book with awful representations of BDSM is either a) great for relationships or b) setting back gender politics (because women can never be sexually submissive, right). And fuck the New York Times bestseller list.

Also, fuck Twilight, because without that equally shitty series, this wouldn’t exist.

I am not kidding when I say that I find incredibly esoteric and specialized porn to be one of the most life-affirming things in the world. Even… no, especially the stuff that doesn’t do anything for me. Every giantess crush site, every furry vore gallery, every Shintaro Kago shit-and-dissection-fest, every body-inflation discussion group, every set of specialized apron-fetish films, every dendrophile fan club, every time I learn a new word like “boytaur” or “OT3″ or “docking” or “unbirth”… all these things bring me a genuine and unironic joy. These things, these kinks, these flights of imagination, are the impassioned obsessions of real people, everyday people. At least one of your coworkers, at least one of your family members. And that’s not creepy, that’s wonderful. Every one of those weird kinks is a shout of human individuality in a world that wants to reduce us down to buying patterns and demographic trends.
Why I Love Weird Porn | No, Seriously, What About Teh Menz? (via sexisnottheenemy)