Ms Naughty Porn for Women Blog

SPOILER ALERT: Warning! This post is about the film Avatar and may contain spoilers. Stop reading now if you haven’t seen it. Also, stop reading now if your find the idea of alien nipples or hair sex disturbing.

I finally saw James Cameron’s Avatar yesterday and I quite liked it. The visual imagery was stunning but I found the plot a little derivative and unoriginal. Where Titanic made me cry like a romantic fool, Avatar didn’t really inspire any serious emotional reaction. So I was a trifle disappointed but still mostly impressed.

Reviews aside, I’m rather intrigued about the “nudity” and sexuality depicted within the film. As you probably know, Avatar features a race of blue-skinned, forest-dwelling aliens called the Na’vi who tend to wear very little clothing apart from loincloths, necklaces and weapons. Their long tails tend to cover up their buttocks and we don’t ever see any glimpses of genitals.

The females have small breasts and presumably also nipples because the males have them. Problem is… we’re not allowed to see them. The women wear various neck decorations which cover the whole nipply area although there are a number of times when we are given glimpses of the full boob. At the very start I swore I saw a nipple outline but on other occasions there was a simple flat blue surface. Others have debated this whole vexed question and someone pointed at that since these aliens aren’t placental mammals, they shouldn’t have breasts at all.

Why do I care about whether the audience can see alien nipples?

I’m interested because it throws light on issues of censorship, “child friendly” entertainment and of Western society’s whole attitude towards breasts and sexuality.

In theory, it shouldn’t matter that we can see the nipples or genitalia of an alien. If the computer-generated image on screen doesn’t depict a human, why are we imposing human ideas of “obscenity” onto it? Surely the tails of the Na’vi are just as rude?

The same thinking applies to the excision of the love scene between hero Jake and the Na’vi woman Neytiri. We only see them kiss… and then we have a few vague shots of them cuddling, fading to black. The original script sees them “plugging in” to each other via the nerve-type thingies (”queues”) in their hair:

He puts his face close to hers. She rubs her cheek against his. He kisses her on the mouth. They explore each other. Then she pulls back, eyes sparkling.

NEYTIRI: Kissing is very good. But we have something better.

She pulls him down until they are kneeling, facing each other
on the faintly glowing moss.

Neytiri takes the end of her queue and raises it. Jake does
the same, with trembling anticipation. The tendrils at the
ends move with a life of their own, straining to be joined.

MACRO SHOT — The tendrils INTERTWINE with gentle
undulations.

JAKE rocks with the direct contact between his nervous system
and hers. The ultimate intimacy.

They come together into a kiss and sink down on the bed of
moss, and ripples of light spread out around them.

THE WILLOWS sway, without wind, and the night is alive with
pulsing energy as we DISSOLVE TO –

LATER. She is collapsed across his chest. Spent. He
strokes her face tenderly.

(from this page)

Apparently Cameron made the decision to cut out the scene to keep the film PG-13. It will feature in the DVD, along with more nipple shots.

I think the whole “ultimate intimacy” idea behind “queue mingling” sounds rather fabulous. Much more spectacular than the usual messing around with bodily fluids. And it certainly buys into the idea of sex as being a transcendent activity, more important than mere reproduction or physical pleasure.

But is it sex at all? There’s no real hint as to whether “queue mingling” actually qualifies as a reproductive act – especially given that the Na’vi tend to “plug in” to their horse-creatures and dragon-type animals and trees. Declaring the act to be a sexual one tends to turn the Na’vi into the very naughtiest kind of tree-huggers.

But why should children not see a scene that doesn’t actually involve sex – at least, sex of the human kind? Why should kids be protected from glimpses of alien nipples? (Indeed, I could go off on a rant about why we get so upset at the idea of kids seeing human sexuality… but that’s another post.) In theory, the Na’vi are the same result of evolutionary biology as the rest of us; their bodies do what they have evolved to do. I could detect no overtly restrictive sexual “morality” written into the imaginary society of Cameron’s indigenous people beyond the fact that queuing enforces a natural monogamy.

Of course, we all know that these imaginary aliens are simply a metaphor for human indigenous people. They share too many humanoid traits for us to consider them as “true” aliens – of the kind that, say, tend to lay eggs in your chest or go on intergalactic hunting missions.

So all the careful concealment of genitals and nipples and weird hair sex are to suit the strange attitudes of the audience, for whom nudity is still shameful and sex is still taboo. And ultimately, this self-censorship by the filmmaker was about getting the film out to as many people as possible, including children, who we deem to be too frail to endure the sight of blue nipples.

And do I even need to point out the ongoing insanity that says kids can’t be exposed to sexuality but violence – such as the graphic final battle scenes of Avatar – is fine?

We’ve obviously got a long way to go with the way sex is depicted in mainstream films if we can’t even explore the sexual biology of an imaginary alien species.

Photo is from the official Avatar site. I wasn’t able to find many pics to better showcase alien boobs, although I suspect the filmmakers want it that way.

On Friday SBS Australia screened a Channel 4 documentary called The Sex Blog Girls which originally aired in the UK in late 2007. The doco primarily looks at the story of The Girl With A One Track Mind, the sex blogger who was notoriously outed by the press in 2006 when her book was released.

I’ve long admired the Girl and have been the grateful recipient of a link from her blog for several years. It was nice to see her in person (on screen at least) and hear her views on the whole subject of sex blogging, even if the documentary itself went overboard with gratuitous tit shots (honestly, do people really believe we sit here and blog in the nude?? They haven’t seen my Grumpy Monkey pyjama pants).

The Girl herself had several gripes with the doco, especially with the way they portrayed her as being the first ever sex blogger.

The whole thing had me musing about my role in the world of blogging about sex. I might write about sex but I’m not actually a “sex blogger” as such because I don’t write about my sex life. I thought I’d take a moment to explain why.

Working in the porn industry means you dwell on the outer fringes of society. There’s always a danger that the fundamentalist Christian next door could discover what you do and promptly report you to police as a pedophile (since they are usually unable to distinguish between normal porn and CP). It would only take one misplaced police raid to fuck up my entire life. Doesn’t matter that what I do is legal or positive or feminist.

This naturally engenders a certain desire for privacy. I use pseudonyms when necessary. My family and friends know what I do but the information is given out on a need-to-know basis.

So here I am working with porn images and movies and erotic fiction on a daily basis. It’s work. I have a real desire to keep my work and my private life a little bit separate, so I don’t really regularly discuss my own bedroom shenanigans, beyond a few vague mentions (or columns at For The Girls).

On top of that, I’m shy. No, don’t laugh. It takes a brave person to discuss the intimate, close-up, painful details of their sex lives for anyone to see and to be honest I just don’t have the guts to go there. My sex life is such a private thing, a thing shared between me and my husband and we just like to keep it that way.

It’s funny that when I tell people that I make porn they often get very personal and reveal things about their own porn preferences or sex lives to me. I might nod and understand, but I don’t reciprocate. I can dole out sex advice and discuss the ins and outs of BDSM or virginity statistics or anal sex without blinking… but I just don’t offer my own anecdotes. I just don’t feel entirely comfortable doing it.

Is this hypocrisy? I don’t know. I’d like to think it’s a matter of creating boundaries for myself. I’m sure that everyone who works in the sex/porn industry encounters this issue; when sex becomes a job, you have to decide where your lines are drawn and stick with them.

Perhaps it’s because my sex life isn’t worthy of headlines anyway. I’m a happily married woman in her 30s. I’ve been on the pill for almost 20 years and my libido has subsequently been nuked. There’s plenty more exciting things going on elsewhere on the net.

I sometimes wondered if I should just make stuff up for salacious fun, maybe to entice a few more readers. But then if I’m going to make stuff up I might as well just write a story for FTG and be done with it. (By the way… check out my story in Best Women’s Erotica 2009).

Nope, Ms Naughty is a blog about porn for women and feminism and news and censorship. It’s not really about my shagadelic adventures so I can’t call myself a sex blogger. If you want to read dirty stuff, check the links on the main page… or visit FTG.

The Huffington Post has a great interview with Jessica Valenti, founder of Feministing, about the rise of the “virginity cult” in the US, specifically among Evangelical Christians, and how it is symptomatic of a larger push towards removing women’s rights.

Oh, I definitely think that virginity is a myth. I think that virginity is a huge lie. Having your first sexual encounter certainly is important, and I don’t mean to demean anyone’s understanding of their sexuality or how they want to think of themselves in that way. And I think that can be a really powerful experience and a wonderful first thing. But, as a concept it’s more dangerous than not, because it puts us into these virgin or not virgin categories, which doesn’t really give us a very nuanced perspective or understanding of sexuality.

Well worth reading.

The Independent has a he-said, she-said article discussing women and desire. Much of it rehashes the New York Times article from a couple of weeks ago, but I felt the need to blog these two paragraphs, just because I liked the sentiment.

So female desire can be a paradox – as Prof Chivers reports, we may want to be ravished roughly in an alley and also want someone who can be tender and caring. But I’m always amazed by how male writers manage to make that sound impossible, when really, women are not that complicated. Our sexuality just doesn’t parallel men’s; we can’t always be viewed through the same filter. So perhaps when they study women, scientists should drop the unifying theory idea.

As Mary Roach says, “[Scientists] saying that they want to increase orgasms, or boost libido is much more helpful than saying: ‘I want to understand women.’”

Catharine Townsend has a point. Why do men always find this complexity confusing? Surely they experience the same thing? Men and women are not automatons, we all want variety in bed and in our relationships. Everyone has their own kinky fantasies… so enough with the “what do women want?” question.

The New York Times has an extensive article on research into female desire and lust, profiling the hardworking scientists who are studying this relatively new field of human sexuality (i.e. nobody’s bothered to look into what turns women on. Go figure.)

What I found really interesting was the discussion about how the old ideas of romance and relationships aren’t what really get the juices flowing. It’s being lusted after that makes all the difference.

Definitely rings a bell with me.

The problem was how to augment desire, and despite prevailing wisdom, the answer, she told me, had “little to do with building better relationships,” with fostering communication between patients and their partners. She rolled her eyes at such niceties…

“Female desire,” Meana said, speaking broadly and not only about her dyspareunic patients, “is not governed by the relational factors that, we like to think, rule women’s sexuality as opposed to men’s.”

“Really,” she said, “women’s desire is not relational, it’s narcissistic” — it is dominated by the yearnings of “self-love,” by the wish to be the object of erotic admiration and sexual need. Still on the subject of narcissism, she talked about research indicating that, in comparison with men, women’s erotic fantasies center less on giving pleasure and more on getting it. “When it comes to desire,” she added, “women may be far less relational than men.”

For evolutionary and cultural reasons, she said, women might set a high value on the closeness and longevity of relationships: “But it’s wrong to think that because relationships are what women choose they’re the primary source of women’s desire.”

…

From early glances at her data, Chivers said, she guesses she will find that women are most turned on, subjectively if not objectively, by scenarios of sex with strangers… “I’ve often thought that there is something really powerful for women’s sexuality about being desired. That receptivity element. At some point I’d love to do a study that would look at that.”

There’s also some interesting speculation about why women will get physically turned on by all sorts of things, even if their mind doesn’t register it.

Genital lubrication, she writes in her upcoming paper in Archives of Sexual Behavior, is necessary “to reduce discomfort, and the possibility of injury, during vaginal penetration. . . . Ancestral women who did not show an automatic vaginal response to sexual cues may have been more likely to experience injuries during unwanted vaginal penetration that resulted in illness, infertility or even death, and thus would be less likely to have passed on this trait to their offspring.”

Evolution’s legacy, according to this theory, is that women are prone to lubricate, if only protectively, to hints of sex in their surroundings.

It’s a very interesting article, well worth reading.

I’m a bit late with this article but I do love what it’s saying: that women enjoy perving just as much as men.

The tiresome myth that women are not as visually aroused as men is used to justify everything from sexual assault to double standards about public toplessness, and it’s time to kill it dead.

If the oceans of female drool spilt over Obama (and Daniel Craig and Jude Law and Roger Federer et al) isn’t enough to convince you, consider the fact that women continue to have sex with men despite not being legally or economically or in any other way compelled to do so.

Hot pic is from For The Girls, of course.

Well, I think Naomi Wolf has lost it.

I was less than impressed with her endlessly-repeated article about porn which relied heavily on assumptions about what men think. And I was also puzzled by her fascination with the idea that Jewish Orthodox modesty was “so hot.”

Now she’s taken that concept and run with it, declaring that Muslim women are far freer in the expression of their sexuality while covered head-to-toe in a chador than we stupid Western chicks.

A few quotes:

This may explain why both Muslim and Orthodox Jewish women not only describe a sense of being liberated by their modest clothing and covered hair, but also express much higher levels of sensual joy in their married lives than is common in the West. When sexuality is kept private and directed in ways seen as sacred – and when one’s husband isn’t seeing his wife (or other women) half-naked all day long – one can feel great power and intensity when the headscarf or the chador comes off in the the home.

Among healthy young men in the West, who grow up on pornography and sexual imagery on every street corner, reduced libido is a growing epidemic, so it is easy to imagine the power that sexuality can carry in a more modest culture. And it is worth understanding the positive experiences that women – and men – can have in cultures where sexuality is more conservatively directed.

and

When you choose your own miniskirt and halter top – in a Western culture in which women are not so free to age, to be respected as mothers, workers or spiritual beings, and to disregard Madison Avenue – it’s worth thinking in a more nuanced way about what female freedom really means.

I’ve got more than a few problems with what’s being said here. It’s hard to know where to start.

I should begin by saying that I am philosophically opposed to Islam. I’m an athiest, for a start, so that means I’m not keen on any kind of religion or the ridiculous rules they impose on people.

I’m also opposed to the sexism and entrenched discrimination that exists within the Muslim religion and within societies that are primarily Islamic. I’ve read the Koran and it (like the Bible) has numerous edicts that explicitly deny women their human rights. As a feminist, I cannot support that.

I reject the Islamic stance on sexuality and male-female relations – the very thing that Naomi Wolf is defending. This view of the world sees all men as sexual predators and all women as sexual prizes. It essentially defines individuals according to preconceived ideas about how men and women will interact if they are allowed to mingle freely with each other. In Islam, all men are rapists, and all women are victims (sounds a bit like Andrea Dworkin, now I think about it.)

Women must be protected, hence the veil, hence the curtailment of their freedom, because their virginity and sexual useability are the only thing considered valuable by Islam. Men, meanwhile, cannot be trusted to control their lustful, animal instincts. Even the sight of a woman’s ankle will incite a man to rape.

But, of course, if he does rape, it’s not really his fault. And the woman will need four witnesses in a court to prove otherwise, according to the Koran. And her testimony is only worth half that of a man’s.

When this is the sort of attitude that lies behind the idea of “the veil”, I find it very difficult to feel sympathetic towards it. And yet that’s exactly what Naomi Wolf is asking us to do. She’s suggesting that this kind of philosophical opposition is just “Western misunderstanding”.

She talks about choice, saying that some Muslim and Jewish women who choose to cover up feel that they are treated more as individuals and less as sexual objects by others. Note, by the way, that she really is only talking about some women, but she writes as if ALL of them feel that way.

It’s certainly an interesting idea and I can respect their choice to live according to their own beliefs. At the same time I think they’re buying into a world view that still defines them according to sex. I mean, think about it. You walk around covered up from head to toe and wearing a head scarf, you’re essentially saying that every man you meet is only interested in your body. And you’re signifying your belief that you can only be taken seriously if your skin isn’t showing.

I don’t know about you, but I like to think that men aren’t quite that bestial.

And I think that Naomi’s defence of choice is problematic in this context, simply because the vast majority of Muslim women in the world aren’t given the option. Wearing the veil is either written into law or it’s considered the cultural norm, to the point that those who don’t cover up are harassed, abused or worse.

And let’s think about those little girls who are also made to wear the veil and denied the freedoms that their brothers enjoy. Where’s the choice or the sexual freedom there?

The whole concept of “modesty” might be a little more acceptable if it were applied to both sexes and if individuals were freely allowed to make that choice, but the fact is that it’s only women who are required to hide their bodies and hair. It’s the women who get the rough end of the stick. Why defend that as a feminist virtue?

I take umbrage at the idea that a hidden sexuality is somehow better than one that is freely expressed. I think it all depends upon your point of view. You get good and bad marriages within Islam and within the Western world. If a relationship is happy and successful it doesn’t really matter what you wear, I suspect. And if either partner develops feelings of jealousy because the other is looking (looking) at the opposite sex, I would say that it’s not the clothes that are the problem.

I also reject the idea that Western women are “forced” to wear skimpy clothing or to be overtly sexual. This assertion is part of that whole “raunch culture” moral panic which interprets autonomous female sexuality as merely an expression of victimhood (i.e. women only pole dance or watch porn to impress the guys, they never make that decision just to please themselves). Yes, you can argue that fashion and popular culture are fairly determined to dress women up like Barbie dolls, but that doesn’t mean we have to actually do it.

And yes, there are men out there who are determined to treat all women like sex objects. But why should their opinions impact upon how I live my life? Why should I restrict my own movements or change my dress because of what they think or say? Fuck them, is the correct answer here.

I’m a Western woman. Most days, I wear clothing that is decidedly unsexy, mainly because I find it comfortable – and I don’t give a damn about what other people think of me. I don’t bother with makeup or high heels and I don’t spend hours doing my hair. I just wear clothes and go out, very much in the same way that men do.

You could argue that I too am treated as an individual rather than as a sex object because I’m wearing my sensible shoes, trousers and unfashionable top. I do understand what those Muslim women are saying about not having to adhere to a certain expectation of “femininity”.

But I don’t feel that my choice of clothing magically enhances my sex life and I certainly don’t think I’m somehow morally superior to those who may be wearing less clothing, for whatever reason.

And when it’s summer, I myself will be wearing less clothing, again because it’s comfortable (even if Naomi says that I’m actually brazenly walking around “half naked”). And I have a major problem with anybody or any religion that tells me I’m a “whore” or not truly free because I might wear a halter top in hot weather. I have a choice and I take responsibility for myself. That’s the whole point of feminism, right?

Naomi’s assertion that Western men are suffering from reduced libido is not based on any research or statistics that I’m aware of. I think her whole argument relies on vague anecdotes and – dare I say it – her own yearnings for the old-fashioned notions of noble marriage as described in romance novels.

If Naomi is genuinely concerned about women’s freedom and sexuality, she needs to go back to addressing attitudes and societal expectations about how women should look and behave and how men should treat women. And she needs to take a more critical view of religion and its role in how women are treated around the world.

Those women who are able to choose the chador or the veil are welcome to it. It’s their life. Just as I reserve the right to wear what I want and to hold my own beliefs. But I will not accept the assertion that their choice and their life is somehow more feminist or free than mine. I think that covering up and hiding sexuality merely gives in to (and feeds) existing sexism, rather than fighting it.

Pic is from this blog page, I can’t find the original image or the artist, unfortunately.

The Girl With A One Track Mind always gives good blog, and her latest post is no exception. In it she replies to the suggestion that she’s a fake because no “real” woman could have that many orgasms so easily. I liked this bit:

Seriously (and ego aside) though, what’s with all the focus on MEN bringing WOMEN to orgasm? Isn’t there enough pressure on men already? What about women bringing themselves to orgasm? I’ve stated, many times, on this blog that women need to take responsibility for their own pleasure. By learning about their bodies and discovering what works for them; by switching off those horrid insecurities that can impact the sex (“Does he think I’m fat?”; “Will he consider me a slut for fucking him on the first date?”; “Am I shit at hand-jobs?”); by gaining confidence in stating their needs, women will have a better time in bed – as will the men they’re with – and the sex will be improved as a result.

She’s spot on. Unfortunately there’s this long tradition in our society that a man “makes” the woman come. It’s all tied up in the whole Freudian thing where the official source of female orgasms is via a penis moving in and out of a vagina. The clit is still something that a woman has to “discover”. Sex education still emphasises intercourse and pretty much implies that penis-in-vagina equals orgasm for both partners automatically. I don’t doubt that the majority of women fully expect the fireworks thing to happen when they first have sex. And when that doesn’t occur… well, cue all the insecurity and worrying and stress.

Self discovery combined with communication is the key to good sex for women. I’m so glad the Girl is out there waving the flag for us.

The Ask Sam blog at the Sydney Morning Herald has published this post entitled “Why Women Hate Porn.”

Unfortunately the article doesn’t actually discuss the whys and wherefores of any negative female reactions to porn. Rather it points out recent statistics that one in three Australian women regularly watch porn. And then the author asserts that women have taken up porn watching because it’s trendy, or because they want to please men (as this Salon blog post suggests).

I can’t help but think this is a huge wasted opportunity to discuss women and porn, squandered on a few vague generalisations and the blanket statement that “what we need is more foreplay, more romance, more kissing after sex and more (gasp!) story line.”

If 25-30% of women are looking at porn regularly, that still leaves a lot of women who aren’t so keen. I thought I’d whack together a quick, simple and numbered list of suggestions as to why some women don’t like porn.

1. The vast majority of porn is made for a male audience. It depicts male fantasies and focuses on male pleasure. Female viewers aren’t acknowledged as an audience.

2. Mainstream porn is often unrealistic and divorced from situations in which everyday women experience sex. It’s also increasingly focused on sex acts that aren’t normative. A simple example: anal sex is standard in today’s porn, but an awful lot of women aren’t so keen on butt sex (and when you consider that in porn butt sex is usually portrayed as painful or cruel, it’s not surprising).

3. The performers in mainstream porn can be alienating and/or unappealing to women. Fake tits, blond hair, no cellulite, no pubic hair… Porn actresses can make women feel self conscious about their bodies. They may also find it hard to empathise with the female stars, which can make watching porn less appealing. And male porn stars can be seriously unattractive or downright creepy.

4. Mainstream porn can have an element of sexism or misogyny involved e.g. the reality sites where women are “tricked” into sex and derided. Even the language of porn (“slut, bitch, whore”) is not encouraging to women who enjoy sex. It upholds the old dichotomies of virgin/whore; women are simultaneously valued and despised because they have sex.

5. There’s still plenty of uncertainty about where porn fits into a relationship. A lot of women feel threatened by their man’s use of porn. There’s a concern that fantasy will make reality less appealing.

6. Some women are concerned that porn is warping men’s idea of good sex, making them expect sex acts that may be unusual or demeaning or unpleasurable for the woman. They feel it misleads men into thinking women will act or think a certain way, one that doesn’t reflect reality.

7. Our Western/Christian society is still very anti-sex and anti-pleasure. Beyond those women who are religiously opposed to porn, there’s still a cultural resistance to the idea of “the prurient interest.” Porn is dirty, uncivilised, unladylike and should be spurned.

I’m sure there are other reasons, but that’s a good start. And I realise there are plenty of generalisations and assumptions going on there. There’s no science behind what I’ve written, just speculation. Indeed, there needs to be heaps more research into this whole thing.

So, to be fair, I’m going to make a list of reasons as to why some women DO like porn.

1. It’s good masturbation material.

2. It can inspire new sexual fantasies that can be used to spice up a relationship.

3. Watching it with a partner can be a form of foreplay.

4. It can inspire a desire to experiment with new ideas in bed (although porn as sex education is never a good idea).

5. Purely for entertainment.

Hmmm, now I make that list, I suspect those are the same reasons why men watch porn.

And interesting that the reasons against are so complicated but the reasons for it are simple.

As a feminist pornographer, I’m can see both the positive and negative aspects of porn. I know I can defend the idea of sexually explicit material while still being critical of the many problems associated with porn. I never want to see this in black and white. Porn is problematic, no doubt about that. Indeed, if porn was perfect, I’d probably still be working as a librarian now.

It’s my desire to make it better that inspires me. Porn doesn’t have to be crappy. Women shouldn’t have to hate it. It’s not going to go away any time soon so we should be aiming to make it better, more realistic, more inclusive, more engaging, more erotic, more intimate and, yes, sexier.

That’s why I make porn.

Pic: From Postsecret

Edit: Jezebel has a good post on this topic here.

I fondly remember the genuine quirkiness of the first episode of Malcolm In The Middle, mainly because of the opening scene when Malcolm’s mother Lois answers the door topless.

Caroline: I’m here because I think there is a tremendous opportunity for Malcolm. Could you maybe put a top on?
Lois: They’re just boobs, lady. You see ‘em in the mirror every morning, and I’m sure yours are a lot nicer than mine.

The scene set out to show just how different Lois was from your standard sitcom mother, but it also raised a very good question about the status of breasts in our society.

The reason I’m pondering about boobs today is because I found the Topfree Equal Rights Association site. This group believes that women and men should be treated equally by the law and society when it comes to not wearing clothes on the top half of the body. In other words, it shouldn’t be a problem for a woman to get her boobs out in public.

Now even the way I’ve written that last phrase is evidence of the cultural assumptions that surround breasts. We’re trained to see boobs as always sexual and always a source of scandal if they are revealed in public. This is why people still get into a huff about women who breastfeed at cafes. The law backs up this cultural belief. Women can be charged with indecent exposure if they go topless but shirtless men are left alone.

The folks at Topfree make a very good case for the rights of women to reveal their breasts. I liked these two quotes:

If men (and any woman or gay man will testify that men’s chests can be ’sexually alluring,’ depending entirely on who the man is) are allowed to strip to the waist, women should be too. The fact that we aren’t is a purely cultural issue, not a sexual one—labelling flesh as ’sexual’ or ‘non-sexual’ depending on the gender of its owner is nonsensical.

and

“This is a rebellion against a woman’s body being considered everywhere and always a sex object. As women we want the right for ourselves to decide when our breasts are sexual. That isn’t going to be in a swimming facility, and therefore they must not have to be covered. We want permission to bathe topfree, as men do.”

The site documents various examples of nipple-phobia including a giant billboard for Wrestlemania where someone had Photoshopped out all the male nipples.

I found myself thinking about bikinis and how they are deemed acceptable at the beach or pool, even if they are a single square of cloth covering the nipple. Take away that social signifier, however, and you’re a wanton whore. Or something like that.

The Topfree people have also posted about the censorship of the Bill Henson photos with an interesting take on the issue. Because you can only see the girl’s nipples in some photos, they argue, the pictures aren’t actually nude. At least, not according to their definition.

Contrast this with the Australian Office of Film and Literature Classification (the OFLC, or censors as they should properly be known) which today officially declared the photos to be rated PG, which is one step above a G rating. The said the images were “not sexualised to any degree” and the “image of breast nudity … creates a viewing impact that is mild and justified by context”. No charges will be laid because a successful prosecution is impossible.

I’d never heard the term “breast nudity” before today and it really caught my eye because I’d been looking at the topfree site. And I guess it comes back to that whole thing about the way society is determined to always equate nudity with sexuality, to the point that a teenage girl’s body becomes a philosophical battleground. In this case, the whole country has been arguing over whether a pair of developing breasts is obscene.

In any case, isn’t it nice to know that “breast nudity” is now rated PG? Thank goodness the OFLC is there to clear it all up for us!

Meanwhile, the Topfree people have an uphill battle ahead of them. You know that thing where a guy talks to your chest instead of your face? Topfree probably doesn’t help that.

The expectation that your breasts should be covered is also fairly deeply ingrained in women. I remember swimming as a kid, wearing only a pair of brief bottoms like the boys. And then one day, at the public pool, I suddenly got shy. I remember holding my hands over my flat chest, saying I needed a top, because I was a girl. I think it’s one of those things that women are always conscious of, this major aspect of difference from men. Boobs are still tied up with sexuality and with our own self image.

Still, when it’s a stinking hot day, it would be nice to just whip the shirt off like the guys do and for people to think nothing of it.

Would I go topfree in public now if I could? Well… if the guys didn’t blink an eyelid… maybe. But only at the indoor swimming pool, not at the beach. And that’s simply because I’m a redhead with blindingly white skin that begins to burn at the mere thought of sunlight. In fact, I’d probably be a nudist except that I could only be in the sun for a total of five minutes. Which makes me less of a nudist and more of a streaker.

Pic is of Liz Book, a US topfree campaigner.

Something has been bugging me for a long time now, so I’m going to have a little rant about it.

It seems that there are a lot of people out there who don’t like the term “porn for women.” I realise this – and I’ve discussed the ins and outs of it plenty of times on the blog. But I’m just gonna have to talk about it again.

The thing is that it seems any new female-focused erotica or porn now has to be prefaced with all sorts of disclaimers, disavowing that it’s this thing called “porn for women” in case someone assumes it’s soft focus romance porn similar to Candida Royalle’s work (and not that there’s anything wrong with that, I might add.)

The determined quotes on the back of the Dirty Girls erotica anthology being a case in point.

Another example: Whenever the sex blog Fleshbot posts about a female-friendly film such as Petra Joy’s Female Fantasies, or Erika Lust’s Five Hot Stories For Her, they have to always – ALWAYS – make some little comment at the start about how they don’t even know what “porn for women” is and how it’s such a silly concept. Thus:

We can’t help but roll our eyes a little when someone starts going on and on about “porn for women”—like men can’t appreciate well-shot productions featuring sexy models who look (and fuck) like real people and not porn star caricatures? Snark aside, UK director Petra Joy’s second film “Female Fantasies” looks so good we could eat it… Link

Sure, Fleshbot, I can see your point, but what’s with the bias? Especially when you have an entire category labelled “porn for women.” What’s wrong with identifying a particular audience for your porn movie?

Another example: a review of Anna Span’s latest film at Strictly Broadband spends several paragraphs reassuring readers that even though it was made by a woman and aimed at a female audience, they could rest assured that it had none of that nasty romance stuff and was just as hardcore as the next movie on the shelf.

I keep seeing this a lot lately.

And then there’s this post at Boinkology, discussing another blog’s lame joke idea that “porn for women” involves missionary position sex and choosing baby names afterwards.

A commenter says: “Smart thing would be to stop addressing the question as Porn For Women or Porn for Ladies or what women want from porn altogether.”

OK… so it would seem that an awful lot of people have decided that the term “porn for women” means softcore or boring porn. And then a whole bunch of other people have got their backs up because they feel the term “porn for women” isn’t valid because it somehow makes sweeping statements about “what women want.” Add to that all those people who feel that vanilla sex or romance in porn is either boring or not worthy of consideration.

And here I am, the antichrist, with my porn for women blog and various sites. And I run For The Girls which may very well be everything these people hate. Even though it’s such a huge and diverse site, a lot of people make assumptions about what it stands for.

It’s all getting a bit much.

Now I think it’s time I put this backlash against “porn for women” into perspective.

Cast your mind back ten years to 1998. Porn on the internet was starting to become a fairly major business. Paysites were popping up everywhere and the internet wasn’t flooded with cheap free porn like today. Photos were pretty much all you could get.

In 1998 I wrote an article for Australian Women’s Forum about what porn there was on the internet for women like myself. I wanted to find ANYTHING that spoke to me as a female. It took me a long time to find anything much. And remember, I’m a librarian so I wasn’t just stumbling around hoping to get lucky. I did eventually find two sites that were specifically aimed at women, one of them being Purve, the first women’s erotica paysite (now defunct).

So, in 1998, “porn for women” was pretty much a non-existent thing. A couple of websites and Candida Royalle’s film catalogue.

In 2000 when I became an adult webmaster, I focused on porn for women because it was something I was passionate about and I knew there were other women like me who were looking for something different – something that spoke to women as a viewer.

In those early days there was a small group of female webmasters who got together and discussed women’s erotica – what it should be, what we liked and who we were marketing to. Most of us liked similar stuff – naked guys, hardcore couples pics without the sexism, and erotic fiction. None of us thought much of facial cumshots.

We each made our own sites but we were also on something of an evangelical mission. The vast majority of the adult industry dismissed the idea that women would seek out and pay for porn (it still does). We constantly made an effort to get our message out to other webmasters that what we were doing was worthwhile. We told them that they should stop assuming that every porn surfer was male.

I even wrote an article for AVN about it.

It took a long time, but a lot of industry people listened. That’s why, folks, you’ll find “for women” categories at every major linklist and TGP out there. That’s why some major companies created paysites for women (although I must admit they were pretty crappy, hence I made my own). And that’s why there is now a distinct “niche” within porn known as “porn for women.” Type the phrase into Google and you’ll get thousands upon thousands of sites.

Fact is, I was one of the people who helped shape the idea of “porn for women.”

The idea is – and always was – to create a separate space in the pornosphere that said “Yes, girls, we know you’re here. Come on in and enjoy yourself.”

So, now it’s 2008 and there’s a desire to question the whole concept of “porn for women.” I understand this and I think it’s a debate worth having. I agree that you cannot pick one particular form of sexual content and say “that’s what women want.” And yes, the word “women” is vast and nebulous and includes lesbians and straight chicks and bi girls and everything.

Nonetheless I still believe that the term is valid and useful and will remain so while ever mainstream porn remains so overwhelmingly aimed at men.

Consider, if you will, the way it is still difficult for a straight female porn consumer to find what she wants and the way she is largely ignored by the porn industry:

* A woman types in “porn” and she ends up an adult site where every photo is of a naked woman and all the language assumes the reader is male.
* A woman types in “naked men” and every site is aimed at – and speaks to – gay men
* The vast majority of straight DVD boxcovers feature a naked woman
* The vast majority of porn movies don’t feature a female orgasm
* The vast majority of porn sites and movies focus on male fantasy
* The vast majority of porn sites and movies give priority to male sexual pleasure and satisfaction.
* The vast majority of straight porn films and photographs make an effort to cut the man out of the frame.
* Porn still perpetuates sexism, gender and racial stereotypes and it portrays women who like sex as sluts, bitches or whores who don’t deserve respect.

Until ALL those things are gone, women who like porn will be on the outer. And they will go looking for something different. Using the term “porn for women” is a great way to raise a flag, to get their attention, to say “Hey! Here’s something that’s different!”

Yes, things are changing. Indie porn producers are abandoning the old cliches and stereotypes and there is a genuine effort to create adult material that appeals to both men and women.

But even when the heady day comes that all porn is equal and has left behind the baggage… I still think the term “porn for women” will be useful. Because how else can you describe a movie that is aimed specifically at women? One that features female fantasies and focuses only on a woman’s pleasure? One that doesn’t give a damn if it turns on the male audience or not?

I’d say that was porn for women.

Giving credit where credit is due: Pic is of Candida Royalle’s Femme – her first film and the very beginning of what is now called porn for women.

This weekend Amber Rhea’s Sex 2.0 conference was held in Atlanta, Georgia. It was attended by various blogging luminaries like Dacia and Rachel Kramer Bussell and was a general discussion of feminism, sexuality and the internet. It looked very cool and various posts are appearing about the event as I write.

Thing is, though, I wasn’t there. Once again, living in Australia means that I miss out on all these “real world” conferences and events. I remember being involved in the discussions when Amber first suggested the idea for the conference, and I said I’d like to go, but it’s just not possible thanks to the sheer cost involved in getting there.

Sometimes I feel frustrated that where I live is getting in the way of my career, a bit. I want to network and meet people and it’s just not doable at this stage. Occasionally I’ll muse about the idea of getting my butt over to the US or Europe and maybe even living there a few months to see what I can get out of it but that’s a big thing to contemplate. Australia’s online and adult industry is just so constricted compared to that of America or the UK or Europe. And the thing is, I don’t even live in a large city here so I’m doubly isolated.

I read yesterday that Richard Branson is about to offer seriously cut price fares to the US (they’re currently over $2500) so that may make a difference in the future.

This is more of a rant than anything. In a way it doesn’t make sense that someone who makes her living on the internet should complain of isolation. I guess the thing is that business opportunities and friendships always seem to be stronger when a physical connection occurs – even if you’ve known the person online for years.

One day… one day…

Violet Blue’s SF column this week, Ugly Violet, and her subsequent blog post has really struck a chord with me. She writes about the way comment trolls dismiss women because of their appearance and the body image issues women have in our culture. This is a conversation we need to be having and one I considered writing about a while ago. I must admit, I never got around to doing it, partly due to fear over what comments it might inspire.

I’ve been down that path. A few years ago I wrote a political comment opposing the Iraq war. Online opponents then went at me with an onslaught of abuse, a lot of it purely trolling. Suddenly I was a stupid, ugly skank who should keep her mouth shut.

It had a big effect on me. I couldn’t sleep, going over retorts in my mind. And I didn’t bother writing anything political ever again.

I hate to admit it, but they won. They shut me up. And I still cringe when I see that those comments are still on the web, waiting for someone to read about how I’m so stupid and ugly.

Why does the word “ugly” have such a monstrous effect on women? Why is it one of the worst insults a man can dish out? Why do we, as women, let it hurt us like that?

I’ve seen many sites that smugly list this alleged quote by Winston Churchill:

Bessie Braddock: Sir, you are drunk.
Churchill: And you, madam, are ugly. But in the morning, I shall be sober.

The comment, apparently, is the very soul of wit and served to put that meddling woman in her place. But when you think about it, calling someone ugly is a very simple, low act that doesn’t require a lot of thought. It essentially involves taking some kind of superior stand and calling down societal judgement on a woman, solely because of her appearance – an aspect over which she has no control and can’t change. Being ugly makes you unworthy of men’s attention, and that is still something that most women want to avoid.

Thus, wielding the “ugly stick” gives a man power at very little cost to himself, and there’s no decent retort available. You can, of course, hit back with some kind of small penis comment, but it does involve lowering yourself to their level.

It’s hard to ignore being called ugly. I still remember the occasions at school when boys said it to me, with no provocation whatsoever. It hurts, and the scars stick with you. You become defensive. You want to fit in. You want to be beautiful. And so the dieting begins, and the make-up, and then, eventually the botox and the plastic surgery.

Unfortunately, judgements made according to appearance go beyond simple insults. They have a big affect on our lives. Studies have shown that being beautiful helps people get jobs and promotions and makes it easier to make friends and fit in socially. People are judged on first impressions all the time, and being attractive is a big bonus.

There’s a million magazine articles about making yourself look good, but our endless striving to be beautiful still means that a dichotomy must always exist. Not everyone is beautiful, especially given our extremely narrow definition of the term in Western society. There will always be “ugly” people, the ones left out in the cold because of their appearance.

Thankfully, there are some people who are rejecting the paradigm of beautiful versus ugly and trying to embrace their “ugliness.” This BBC article talks about an Argentinian author whose “Ugly Pride” movement has taken off in that country. His book Feo (Ugly) is a bestseller.

A blog called Beautiful Ugly encourages people to share their own stories of insecurity and self growth when it comes to how they look.

I’ll say this. I’m not going to win any beauty contests and I don’t care to. Some days I feel ugly and other days I’m a goddess of gorgeousness. A lot of the time I don’t bother with trying to fit in with what society considers to be beautiful because I simply couldn’t be arsed spending the time doing it. I know I have my good physical points and my bad ones. I also know I’m intelligent, sexy, unusual and a lot of fun. The people who love me, do. The ones who don’t can bugger off.

I’m still not immune to verbal abuse. Even though I know better, online comments can still bruise the ego.

In a way, the internet is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to appearance. You don’t have to post photos of yourself. You can be anonymous if you wish, or post photos of someone else and pass them off as yourself. I use a characature to represent Ms Naughty. It’s just easier that way. People like Violet who are brave enough to be “out” face challenges – including threats – that I’m not ready to endure.

There is no obligation to be truthful on the net, just as there is no obligation to be polite or civilized.

Thus, the trolls. As Violet says, the mask of the net gives plenty of people an excuse to indulge in the worst possible behaviour. I’ve actually given up reading comments a lot of the time because things inevitably spiral towards abuse, ignorance or inanity. The blanket democracy of the internet may give us a reason to believe that, deep down, human beings are pathetic.

It’s telling that one of the first comments posted to Violet’s column was an anonymous guy who insisted “But Violet, you are ugly.” As if that made everything she had to say worthless. As if he’d won, somehow.

His stupid, stupid comment has been removed, but it’s the example that proves Violet’s point. The remark is still powerful thanks to its nastiness, but to do anything other than ignore or delete it gives in to that power.

It’s a cliche, but perhaps I need to close with the quote by Eleanor Roosevelt:

“No-one can make you feel inferior without your permission.”

I’m a bit late with this but it’s worth blogging about anyway. Three Australian researchers have released The Porn Report, the result of several years of research and surveys. The finding that the media have jumped on is that – gasp! – women like porn.

17% of those interviewed for the book were women and the authors say that women make up an increasing percentage of the porn market.

That newcomer, says author Catharine Lumby, is likely to be a woman aged under 35 who lives in the suburbs, votes for a progressive party like the Greens, is in a monogamous relationship with a man and earns slightly more than average.

Lumby says research indicates that women who consume pornography favour watching DVDs on a laptop in the privacy of their home and also like to watch porn with a partner.

I actually participated in that survey and I’m pleased to see the book is finally out. I hope their findings are useful in reducing the stigma surrounding porn in this country and that it can be used to remove the ridiculous censorship laws in place here.

There’s a blog post and numerous comments on the topic here.

Most porn films these days (and I’m not talking about the frightening XXX types which are just wrong) seem to make the women’s needs as important as the man’s. (NB men). There is a big difference between the hardcore porn that could only possibly do things for dirty, disgusting pervs, but more the soft porn variety, which is not as, um, intrusive.

That’s probably one of the reasons more women are embracing it these days. It’s about having the choice and realising that porn comes in lots of different forms, from movies, to books, to even the naughty text message.

Nice to see a positive comment on porn in a News Ltd publication.

I’ve linked to the blog All Men Are Liars, mainly because Sam De Brito is an excellent writer and I suspect he’s actually a closet feminist.

I’ve been meaning to put this video up for a while. It documents Sam’s weekend spent as a woman, complete with wig, dresses, high heels and Brazilian wax. I recommend watching it just for the waxing part.

“I felt like a plucked, raw chicken below the waist.”

It’s also a great example of a man trying to empathise with women in a very real and unusual way. There’s an entire reality series in this if someone is daring enough to do it.