I've had a lot of smut thrust at me over the years as awful examples of "women being degraded", but none of that has ever truly pissed me off quite like ForTheGirls.com.  It's with that long-standing annoyance that I was disappointed to see that the only porn site to ever really offend me with its disgusting amount of sexism is up for a Feminist Porn Award.  For The Girls (and others in the genre) takes sexuality back about 50 years, insults viewers' intellect and their libido, and tacitly says that all women are vanilla heterosexual chicks who squirm and giggle at the very thought of penises.

For The Girls and other smaller "porn for women" companies feature cheesy soft-focus images, putting forth the idea that in order for women to be aroused, a sexual situation must be framed in terms of love and cuddling.  I love snuggling, too, but it's obscenely offensive to me to suggest that women are such delicate little flowers that we can't handle sex without it being about love.  That, to me, is exactly the sort of mentality that feminism was supposed to be fighting against.  (But, I have that sentiment about a lot of matters when it comes to feminism, which is why I abandoned that sinking ship.)

I don't need saccharine romantic story lines to get wet - I want to see relatable people and fucking.  ("Porn for women" rarely features shots of penetration and other things that supposedly frighten women.)  When I look at porn, I want to see people getting sweaty, aroused, smiling and laughing, being "imperfect", and in realistic locations and situations, not a "fantasy hay loft where the muscular stable boy makes sweet gentle love to me while never ruffling my feathered hair."

For The Girls is just as bad as mainstream "male-centric" porn in the type of body images it promotes- oiled up beefcake guys with muscles, who generally look like they were photographed for some gay porn mag.  The women have flawless thin bodies, just like what you'd see on any mainstream porn production.  The sex - what little of it is shown - is of the extremely staged variety where the focus is on camera angles and keeping the performer's makeup and hair looking perfect.  (Nevermind the fact that most "porn for women" looks like it was shot in the 80s and 90s.)  Apparently, "women" like their porn tacky, contrived, and like something out of a letter to Penthouse Forum from 20 years ago where it's obvious a man is writing his fantasy from the perspective of a woman.

Why is For The Girls' content so similar to mainstream porn, you ask?  Because it is mainstream porn - and I don't mean that just as a personal judgement.  In talking with the site's owner on an industry message board several years ago, she explained how she gets the material she uses on her site.  For The Girls' owner buys cheesey mass-market heterosexual porn content, and removes all the shots of the actual sex, since women don't want to see that sort of thing.  She also buys generic softcore male content and deletes any photos that look too gay.  She then writes flowery introductory text to make the content romancey and (supposedly) appealing to women.  While the site's audience is led to believe that the content is special, "made for women", and focusing on women's pleasure and desires, it's just random porn produced under whoever-knows-what circumstances, with all the icky sex and the icky gay stuff deleted out.  Very feminist and sex-positive, don't you think?

(I've had a number of online conflicts on this topic with the owner of For The Girls, and I wish I had them screencapped for posterity.  Our fights were on a couple of different message boards for women in the porn industry, both of which are now offline.)

For The Girls and the "porn for women" niche is just dripping with the idea that women actually don't like or want sex.  It's deeply misogynistic in ways that aren't obvious on the surface.  (The whole thing reminds me of an Onion article about a woman masturbating to the thought of having a husband, a house in the suburbs, and 2.5 darling children.)  For The Girls' owner wouldn't even bother me if she peddled her product as "softcore romance porn", but don't beat your chest and make a fuss about how your conservative anti-sex "porn" is is what all women - as a blushing hivemind - want.

I've heard that For The Girls does sell well, which is sad, because it's not the only option.  There is a lot of porn out there for vanilla heterosexual women that doesn't belittle them, and is actually directed by women, focused on women's pleasure, and features performers who love their work.  (As well as amazing porn directed by men and transfolk, and porn that's not so vanilla or heterosexual.)  There is just so much kick-ass erotic material out there these days for all women, of all different tastes, and it's a shame to see one site claim a monopoly on knowing what's best for the fairer sex.  It's especially sad to see For The Girls mentioned in the same breath as Buck Angel, Jamye Waxman, Madison Young, Shine Louise Houston, Carlos Batts, Courtney Trouble, and Tristan Taormino - and all the other people who create beautiful erotic material that doesn't condescend to their audience by "protecting" them from sex.

Years ago, I was eating with a friend and a few of his enlightened lefty activist buddies.

I was aware that a number of his self-righteous feminist pals had a problem with what I do, so I generally stayed away from them, choosing to socialize with my friend one-on-one, when we'd make vegan cookies and watch scifi.  (An associate of his once tried to pick a fight with me inside an upscale restaurant, loudly accusing me in public that I "think it's a good thing to rape children".)

On this particular awkward occasion, I don't recall a certain woman at our table saying anything to me during the meal, nor had she and I ever met before.  I ordered something small, like an appetizer or a milkshake.  When the bill came, I tipped the waitress something like 50% of the cost of what I ate.

The previously-quiet woman gave me the stink eye and snottily said, "You know, for the kind of money you make, you really should be tipping more.  These woman actually have to work for their money."

Remind me that part again about how the left is sexually liberated at right-wingers are my enemy?  I prefer my old-school Republican father who supports my right to sell sexuality over these "enlightened" feminist asses any day of the week.

One of the most commonly asked questions of sex workers is, "But do your parents know?!", generally spoken in a mock-concerned, barely-containing-their-excitement voice, ready to hear about my inner turmoil of how I want nothing more than to be able to make my parents proud of me, yet am burdened with the shame of being a fallen woman.

When I started out, I wasn't sure how my father would react when he eventually found out about the porn thing, and I had no immediate plans to tell him.  He has post-it notes on his coffee table to help him figure out how to work his television remote control, so I wasn't worried that my luddite dad was going to stumble across my web site.

A year or two in, a teenaged cousin found my web site.  I'm not sure how this worked in his head, but he apparently decided that there was more satisfaction to be had in tattling on me to the family than there was in not telling the family a story that started out, "I was looking at porn, and..."

So, I got The Call from my father.

"Is this true- that you're naked on some kind of internet sites?"

He sounded a touch angry, but not ragingly so.  I considered whether I should just lie.  I could get away with lying because he had no means of disproving me.

"Yes, it's true."

There was a pause on his end.  Sure, my father always had Playboys not-so-well-hidden around the house, but the idea of men jerking off to his own daughter might be a very different issue.

(It's an interesting test of how screwed people are about sex- the way they react to the idea that I get naked for money.  In general, something I find fascinating about being a sex worker is the way so many people project all their fears, insecurities, and neuroses on me and criticize me for their own issues.  If a person tells me how degrading and disgusting my job is, it's because they view their own sexuality with revulsion.  And this goes for misogynist men as well as the liberal feminists whose eyes - and mouths - shoot jealous hate-daggers at any woman more attractive than them.)

My father posed his next question: "Are you making money doing this?"

"Yes.  People pay a subscription fee every month to see new photos."

He exhaled a massive sigh of relief into the phone. "Oh, THANK GOD, I thought you were doing it for FREE!  Never do that for free."

We both sort of awkwardly laughed about the whole thing.

Later, he let me shoot porn in his beautifully-decorated living room.  Here's a favorite photo of myself from that day, and the one I use on my business card:

(I was prompted to put this story in writing by the Coming Out post on $pread's blog.)

It's a real shame that Diablo Cody hasn't kept her old blog online.  I realize she's a famous Oscar-winner now and has important celebrity encounters and movie openings to blog about, but her earlier work was among my favorite stuff to read when I was new to the adult industry.  I recently sought out one of her posts via Archive.org, and I wanted to re-post it here as a little piece of sex worker history the web has almost forgotten.

This was written November 16th, 2003.

Under glass.

Saturday night is the cruelest shift at the peep show, and not just because I'd rather be abusing alcohol at my favorite bowling alley. No, Saturday nights suck because S-Mart attracts throngs of drunken curiousity seekers and couples who think it might be "fun" to go to that giant sex shop downtown.

Now, as you know, I do the dirty stuff in a private booth, away from prying eyes. But when I'm not doing a show, I have to sit in the "den," which is basically a big glass display case in the middle of the fucking store. I'm basically a doll. Anyone who walks in can ogle me in my underwear, tap on the glass, hurl insults, cluck with disapproval at how "exploited" I am, compare me to an animal in a zoo, etc. And they do.

Most nights, this isn't a problem. The usual gang of perverts who frequent the store are used to seeing us in there, and they don't even approach the glass unless they want to buy a show. But on Saturdays, that's when we get the kind of people who aren't used to seeing peep show girls in the flesh.

Worse yet, we get women.

Women shopping for bachelorette parties. Women on "girls' night out," who have had one too many Flirtinis and are feeling self-righteous, hilarious and/or bitter. Women who are with their husbands, and suddenly turn sour when hubby approaches the glass. I stiffen whenever I see a woman coming. They never have anything nice to say, even though I've mastered my sheepish "It's a living, sister" smile.

What made last night especially agonizing was that I was working alone. I brought a book on Buddhism and zoned out on the sofa (so much for mindfulness.) Everytime I slipped out of my book-induced reverie and looked up, there was a group of people standing at the glass. "Hey, she's real!" someone inevitably said. Or (with disgust) "They pay her to sit in there and read?"

I came home at 1:00 a.m. and had nightmares.

"Some feminists say that sexual female submission, or violent sex, is never okay. Clearly as someone who both seeks and gives such, I don't agree. It's also been suggested that my social conditioning makes me equate violence and sex. 'Spose that's possible, but I don't like arguments that assume I am stupid and blind."

- Calico, in Unforgivables on blog.misscalico.com

I recently popped my sex worker blogger cherry when I came across a feminist blog post attacking me.  Since the author of the post didn't feel the need to link to me - or even mention my pseudonym - so that her readers might be able to see what I actually do believe, I see no reason to link to her, either.  Besides, if you've read one pissy feminist screed, you've read them all.  (How frustrating it must be to be so banal.)

The feminist in question didn't offer a rebuttal of my arguments, of course, or an answer to the questions I've posed for feminists.  She mocked "me" for being dumb by inserting ditzy Valleygirl-speak into her paraphrase of something I've said, and argued against me (and Ann Coulter, with whom I am apparently interchangeable) as though I am opposed to all advancements in women's rights ever, included Roe v Wade and laws that protect rape victims.  Because, as we all know, anyone who does not identify as a feminist is obviously devoted to cheering on rapists and forcing women to undergo rusty coat hanger abortions.

She's not the first to use that kind of red herring against me - anyone who doesn't call themselves a feminist is a misogynist - and she won't be the last.

It's times like this that make me wonder: do first world feminists do much of anything apart from angrily whining on the internet about how much they despise other women?  For every one awesome feminist out there pushing for medically-accurate sex education or volunteering at a domestic violence shelter, there are a thousand itching-to-be-upset-about-anything women who's only apparent contribution to their beloved feminism is writing tirades on blogs and forums about how sluts like me are ruining everything for good girls like them.

To these feminists, I say: if you hate women who do things with their bodies that you think they shouldn't be allowed to do, don't couch it in some kind of hypocritical "sisterhood" crap.  Just admit that your problem with The Evil Patriarchy isn't really the issue of men telling women what's best for them, but that you think you are the one who ought to be deciding how women are permitted to live.

Some people seek to quash controlling hierarchies altogether; other people just want to claw their way to the top of the heap so they can get their turn at imposing their will on others.  Don't be the latter.

Sex workers and sluts are catnip for those who fancy themselves amateur psychologists.  "What awful things happened to her to make her turn out like that?", they wonder, disgustedly and excitedly, scratching their heads and seeking to unravel what titillating damage has been inflicted upon the presumed victim.  Apparently, one must have been raped by their father and beaten by their partners to turn out so deeply fucked up that they would be like me and happily embrace many facets of their sexuality and body.

Well, fuck you to anyone who thinks that accusing sex workers of being rape/violence survivors is a clever zinger of a debate point.  I have seen self-proclaimed feminists do this more times than I care to count.  They paternalize up their argument a bit, but at the core is a self-satisfied, "Haha!  I bet you've been raped!  You're a victim with no power to make your own decisions, ever!  I totally win the porn debate!"

It's with this history of strangers projecting their scandalous ideas of my past upon me that I've always been hesitant to mention the bad things that have happened.  When accusations of being a rape/violence survivor get turned into a way to attack someone else's credibility and choices, (but only of that someone else is a sex worker, of course), sex workers aren't as likely to speak up about actual, non-imagined abuse.  It's giving cannon-fodder to the enemy.

Before I ever got naked on the internet, I had two partners hit me, and another choke me.  Do their violent actions, then, define me for the rest of my life?  Should "we" give abusers that power?  Must I now wear the scarlet V for "victim" around my neck so that others know to treat me delicately and make "good" decisions for me?  Am I a perfectly-packaged imaginary cliche of a helpless battered woman who "turned to porn"?

Again, fuck you to anyone who thinks so.

All things considered, I feel like I've run through the gauntlet of life thus far relatively unscathed.  But, why do some people assume, or even insist, that I must have had it worse?  Why do so many "progressive"/"feminist" outsiders have a need to believe that all sex workers have been raped and attacked?

It makes me want to go all amateur psychologist and ask, "What awful things happened to this person to make them fantasize so much about sexual women being assaulted and raped?"

When I was pondering what to name my blog, I devoted several days of intense shower-thinking to the matter before settling on "Feminisnt". To me, if a feminIST means one who is a proponent of feminism, a feminISNT is one who is not, without necessarily being anti-feminist. Huzzah! Clever unique term coined! Point me!

But, alas, like most good ideas, this one had been thought of before.

A Google search for the term netted the term almost exclusively as a typo by people who can't spell feminist.

There already existed one blog with the title: feminisnt.blogspot.com A few months later, another one with the title came along, feminisnt.wordpress.com

Most notably is a Vancouver group/person who puts "FEMINISN'T" stickers/stencils on advertisements that feature images of women. Nothing says "nuanced discussion of sexuality and gender politics" like stickering random advertisements that feature images of attractive women, I suppose. It doesn't matter what the women in the ads may think about the subject, if they're volunteers with any real causes, or donate to help women's organizations - they're sexy, so they obviously they're bad. Much like the graphic porn photos anti-porn campaigners use without consent of the human beings they feature, the women here have had their likenesses reappropriated without their consent and have been objectified to suit the will of the outsider. Mmmm... solidarity with all womankind, that.

So, yes- I know I'm not the first person to use the term, and I will try harder to be clever in the future.