Photo by Daniel Meyer.
This week’s SF Chronicle column is about a visit I made to a porn set last week; it was really my first time on a porn set, and it was a pretty intense shoot for my first visit. I actually left halfway through — a combination of exhaustion and discomfort, and not wanting to be any more tired or stressed out (especially about sex). I explain quite a bit in the column, though I left out the who, what and where of the activities. I also didn’t mention that the sex act onstage when I left was exactly the kind of porn I try to fast-forward through when I’m jacking off and hope to maintain my “hard-on” but this was real life, I had no remote control, and was just kinda *over* porn stunts, know what I mean? I kept my “hard-on” from the hot stuff I saw earlier in the shoot, and went to Hacker Boy’s house for beer and other types of relief — physical and emotional. Who knew going to a porn set would be emotionally draining?
Anyway, here’s a snip from Notes From A Porn Set:
It wasn’t the sex, the BDSM, or the strange men watching and touching themselves that made me want to click past the real-life porn scene I found myself in last Thursday night.
It was when the — annoying — male porn star sitting in the chair in front of me, working with great sweaty macho effort, gave me an inadvertent glimpse of the project in his lap. Mr. Happy was Mr. Floppy.
Like Elvis, I left the building.
OK, maybe that’s an overly simplistic version of what drove me from the set. I’d intended to stay for the whole evening: It’s not often a handpicked selection of spectators are invited to an elaborate, fancy-dress straight porn shoot in San Francisco. We were all dressed up on a weekday evening in a giant warehouse set, nibbling superb catering and sipping Champagne and cocktails, all there to watch (and if we wanted, to participate in) an S/M- tinged segment. We were the staged voyeurs to give the public group sex scene its “real feel.”
It was certainly decadent in feeling; at least half the couples and single men and women (and assorted transfolk) were wearing discreet black velvet masks and serious formal attire. Long before the event, we’d been pre-screened on a variety of levels. Vetted for sexual and BDSM comfort, we were also coached on the strict dress code and filled out a packet of paperwork and provided ID and personal information. We were told we could be viewers, “fondlers” or outright participants — the latter having to get some serious tests before being allowed in. Those who were to share in the sexual activity were banded like tagged animals in the wild; I could see that some of the suited men had red wristbands showing they’d completed tests and more.
I didn’t see any women with red wristbands. I guess that was a little disappointing.
It wasn’t a gay male shoot: There was a female performer on the way. While we waited, we were carefully talked through the explicit layers of her rules and boundaries. I got the lengthy regulations at least three times, which included “Do not ever call her ‘bitch.’ Do not penetrate her ass. Do not urinate on her.”
At that last bit, the nerdy boy to my right glanced nervously at me saying with a laugh, “Uh! Whoa. Like that’s an option?” I answered, I guess they want to make sure everything’s, um, covered. (… read more.)
Update 5/2: I’ve just been informed that this story was the #1 most read of anything on the SF Chronicle’s website for the day of 5/1. Will it be better than last week’s column with Lorelei Lee, which was #2 in pageviews *for the week*? I can’t believe I’m writing that… Wow. The fallout and discussions from this piece has been very interesting. I’ve been in a long conversation with some of the people behind the porn shoot, and there’s agreement about the tone of my experience, yet we also agree that this is a lot more complicated than anyone’s casual assessment of “misogyny”. Interestingly, in the SF Gate comments, there were a couple nuggets. One, one was (likely) from the male porn performer at the shoot I referred to in the piece, who wrote as “calkid81″: “Hey Violet, tell your nerdy friend I’m sorry about sweating on his chair”
In the piece I openly wondered if he hated women; you’d think a comment where he points out who he is and that he’s read the piece would address the bigger, more disturbing questions about his misogyny. Talk about missing the point.
Another comment of note was definitely from someone who was there as well, from page 9 in the comments:
“I was at the shoot too, and I had the same reactions Violet did to the same things. I hadn’t realized that some audience members were recruited via Craiglist. That cranks the creep level up. I thought they were friends of friends of people who work there, like me. The ‘performer’ she mentions, a bleach blond guy, was indeed completely loathsome, especially twirling his half-hard unit like a lasso and burping loudly and asking the performer “What is your definition of wrath?” WTF? Every single thing he said or did was the exact opposite of hot. There was also a guy who laughed at everything that happened and constantly made jokes – it’s porn, not stand-up comedy, dude. These guys were the female version of a weenie shrinker – a clam dryer? You can say context doesn’t matter, but trust me, there were moments of deep yuckiness. Also moments of hotness, which is why I stayed till the end, though I could use mind bleach for a lot of it.”
Yet another comment came from a self-identified woman at the shoot, who thought I was clueless and totally enjoyed herself. So, it’s a complex topic, and I think I’d never have these conversations if I was writing about creep factor on a porn set from Porn Valley (except for with people like Eon). Their values are very different in that particular porn machine, to say the least. I’m glad I get to show the Bay Area’s version of porn, making porn and sex in general. I get the sense that it’s like this in Seattle, in New York too — and that Porn Valley is an island.
I’m proud to be able to share it, even when it’s not the experience I hoped, or wanted. It’s important to show you my boundaries and mishaps, too.
It was really hard to write about this. Not because I’m afraid of misogyny or anything, but because I stress about my relationships with communities and business cultures and individuals that grant me access to their work (their lives) based on trust. I always do as I’m asked and respect all requests and boundaries. With media though, it’s a scary blind trust on their end, anyone’s end — especially when you bring in trans, LGBT, gender, privacy and sex issues. I earn that trust, and I endeavor to keep it. And — I have done so for many, many years. I think that’s what mainstream media has really fucked up over the past several decades; people who have been sexually and ideologically marginalized have had their trust broken by mainstream media repeatedly as Fox goes for a story, the sex workers hope to shine a light of sanity or advance their careers, and entities (and reporters) fuck them over, lie to them, and betray their trust. That’s how you lose access to tell interesting stories; you betray the trust of your subject. Mainstream media has always clung to the notion that people interested in and involved in sex are defective, so they notoriously don’t treat the subject or the people involved with any respect or try to even tell an accurate story. I hate it. I want to destroy it. So, writing this piece was many sleepless nights for me, because the people who invited me to the porn set are good people, and I believe in what they do. I don’t know what’s going to happen with that relationship now. What I had to say reverberated for a lot of people, but it was scary. I worked really hard not to blame, shame or discount anyone’s experience (the porn dude notwithstanding; his behavior told its own story). I told my own experience.
I guess also, one of the things I’ve taken away from this is a sidenote, a sort-of global reflection: I’m not in a unique position — no matter where you go, no matter what you do, there’s going to be someone who blogs or writes about what you do.
Someday I do want to go to, and participate in (at least as a pair of hands), a hot group sex scene. Okay, now I’m rambling…
{ Comments on this entry are closed }
