Porn is the New Punk by Danny Wylde

Old, accessible, and barely relevant; or fierce, bold, and inherently activist. Could it be both?

Like the breed of aging musicians who used to be cutting edge, the giants of pornography are living off the past.

First, the stuff was dangerous – illegal even. Before the 1987 case of California vs Freeman, porn was in the same lawless league as prostitution. Then the California Supreme Court decided it fell under the First Amendment right to free speech. So porn became legitimate, and then it became profitable.

Now it’s everywhere. The kids who grew up with digital music and video games now watch porn. So do their parents, teachers, politicians, and religious leaders. It makes headlines when someone gets caught, but the rest of the time it streams unmentioned through tube sites, torrents, and the occasional paid web service.

People must still buy the stuff because I keep getting paid to perform in it. But the amount on my check keeps dwindling. And it’s not too hard to read the panic on my friends’ faces when their work all but dries up.

Porn’s a dying monster. It’s lost the financial weight it once had to throw around. Piracy and over-saturation have nearly burned it out. But the behemoth keeps limping along, and young men and women keep standing behind it – waiting in line to get fucked.

The problem now is that it’s barely worth it. Sure, most anyone can seek out an opportunity to shed their clothes on camera. And afterward, the paycheck may look nice. But wait a few months and there’s no guarantee for a new performer to call sex a full-time job.

On the surface, the only thing porn and punk have in common is that you can follow each with, “is dead.” The proof of punk’s demise is there’s no longer anything at stake. Sling a guitar over your shoulder and wear a Mohawk, and some Beverly Hills mom will probably think you’re cute. The difference with porn is it’s a double-edged sword. Fuck on camera and your family might disown you, you’ll be called a whore in mainstream media and victim in the annals of anti-porn feminism, you’ll forgo ever having a career with kids or in politics, and – depending on where you live – you might even be arrested.

So despite the most mundane, selfish, or superficial of motivations, I’d like to make the case that every contemporary performer who makes a conscious decision to appear in a porn film is way more “punk rock” than some guy/girl in a band.

Consider this: in June of 2011, adult performer, Kimberly Kupps, was arrested for shooting porn in her own Floridian home – with her husband no less. The content wasn’t remarkably different from that of other smut. Her crime was just performing in a state with no legal precedent to distinguish porn as separate from prostitution, and in a county where adult content was deemed obscene by “community standards.”

Like in most of the United States, it is still illegal to produce pornography in Kupps’ home of Lake Wales, Florida. So performing there makes one an outlaw. On the basic principle of “fuck the man,” it already sounds kind of punk rock. But doing something illegal to make a living isn’t always cool or transgressive. Like, selling drugs to kids probably makes you a scumbag. However, it would be hard to argue that using one’s own body to depict pleasure or arousal is inherently wrong or destructive. It’s just the law that makes it dangerous.

But in the supposed safe haven of California, porn faces its own brand of legal persecution. In 2009, the AIDS Healthcare Foundation (AHF) made its first complaint to the California Division of Occupational Safety and Health (Cal-OSHA) to investigate and fine adult production companies that do not adhere to the same workplace safety regulations that require nurses to wear protective gear. In porn, those regulations would require the use of barrier protection (i.e. condoms, gloves, dental dams, and – in some cases – protective eye wear) and the exclusion of “cum shots.”

It may appear that AHF is looking out for the health and safety of all adult performers. But when a meeting was held on June 7th, 2011, with a Cal-OSHA advisory committee, upwards of seventy industry professionals (many of them performers) turned out to unanimously voice their opposition to a barrier protection mandate.

It’s a bit unusual for seventy non-unionized members of any industry to gather for something other than a party. So why would so many performers take time out of their day to protest workplace safety laws? Well, those performers believe the laws would do little to protect them. In fact, the regulations are widely viewed to be both discriminatory and destructive to the entire pornographic profession.

For the past twelve years, an organization called Adult Industry Medical (AIM) served the adult community by providing industry-regulated STI (sexually transmitted infection) testing, medical and psychiatric services, and even scholarships. After the complaints made by AHF, Cal-OSHA subpoenaed AIM for performers’ medical records in an attempt to establish causal relationships between STI statuses and adult production companies. When AIM refused to give up this information, and protect their patients’ right to privacy, it faced a legal battle which cost them in excess of one hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars. Due in part to this litigation, AIM was forced to shut its doors in early 2011.

The closure of AIM was a heavy hit to the industry and its self-regulated testing practices (which have yielded zero demonstrable transmissions of HIV on porn sets since 2004). It was also a wake-up call. The fines placed on production companies might cost them a small fortune. But if contested, they may very well lead to financial ruin. So why would anyone contest them in the first place? What could be so bad about mandated barrier protection?

Back in 2004, the heterosexual side of the industry endured an HIV outbreak. A performer named Darren James returned from South America, unaware he contracted the virus. He then spread HIV to several actresses before testing positive. The industry responded by enacting a quarantine and nearly shutting down production. Shortly after it resumed, most companies decided to go “condom-only.” Many producers remember the time as characterized by a drop in sales and an almost instantaneous increase in the domestic purchase of European (non-condom) porn. Understandably, it didn’t last long.

The claim ever since is that condoms hurt sales. Because a company’s primary motivation is to make money, the fear is that a barrier protection mandate will drive production out of California or force it underground (i.e. make it illegal). Further, a mandate means more than just condoms. It would require barrier protection for most every form of sexual interaction, making the contemporary production of pornography nearly impossible. In any proposed scenario, it would mean the loss of jobs for performers.

Because the law, as enforced by Cal-OSHA, requires only post-exposure testing, performers are also worried about the impact such a mandate would have on their health. Post-exposure testing allows for the possibility of HIV-positive performers to work with barrier protection. Should that protection fail, performers are put at even greater risk for contraction.

So at the helm of the law, US-based performers face comprises to their finances, health, and personal freedom. Thus, it has become essential for them to fight back. But in the vein of punk rock spirit, there is more noise made than literal action.

The performer-base has always been made up primarily of young adults – those in their late teens or early twenties. In essence, a workforce just learning how to grow up and survive. It is not the performer’s job to be an activist. I’d argue that many don’t even realize there are causes to take up. But gossip circulates, and word is spread of threats to industry and self. The energy of youth is then taken up in being pissed off at a world in which change appears impossible. A quick look at performer social networking accounts reveals an increased – often enraged – discussion around industry-related issues during times of conflict. However, performer turn-out to events, such as Cal-OSHA committee meetings or AIM Healthcare fund-raisers, remains consistently low when compared to the entire workforce.

Perhaps it’s not just an analogy to punk, but to youth subculture in general. Activist voice is countered by apathy, drug culture, and extreme notions of individuality. For the young porn performer, a certain confidence must be embraced to participate in such a public taboo. When reinforced by money, praise, and sexual prowess, a feeling can develop that “at last” one has found a place to belong. But where is this place? Outside of the porn sets and a few parties, the performer has no real space to interact with like-minded (or like-bodied) people. The show, the concert, the rave, the club: these all exist as centers for sub-cultural bonding. But aside from when one is at work or surrounded by self-selected industry friends, the performer can remain in relative isolation. Because in mainstream culture, the performer embodies the “other.” And it’s in a way not experienced by most, let alone those of other niche professions.

For instance, an astrophysicist may discuss complicated mathematics over dinner with a colleague. In a public restaurant, no one else is expected to understand. But neither is one likely to take offense. Seat a group of porn stars in that same restaurant and public reactions may be far more extreme to a discussion over the nature of their work.

This reaction is reinforced by the mainstream media and supported in some sects of higher academia. The Tyra Banks Show is now infamous for its depiction of porn star, Sasha Grey, as a naïve victim (Grey has since gone on to be the most successful cross-over star of her generation). The FOX Network’s Lie to Me dedicates an entire episode to the portrayal of pornography as a hotbed for HIV transmission and underage sex trafficking. Pulitzer Prize Winning journalist, Chris Hedges, writes in his book, Empire of Illusion, that “Porn reflects the endemic cruelty of our society” (72). And Gail Dines, an anti-porn activist and professor of sociology and women’s studies, says in her interview with Uprising Radio that, “They don’t make love in pornography, they make hate.”

So while performers are now more visible than ever, they are also overwhelmingly portrayed as either victims or participants in something violent, hateful, and cruel. It is a standard that works to demonize those who have simply learned to capitalize on their bodies in an attempt to share pleasure for profit.

Despite this public portrayal, conscious efforts to harm performers are arguably still uncommon. However, “uncommon” does not translate to an absence altogether. Those behind the website, Porn Wiki Leaks, prove the existence of overtly hostile sentiment towards those in the pornographic profession.

Widely believed to be the creation of ex-performer, Donny Long, Porn Wiki Leaks boasts a wealth of anonymously-contributed information on contemporary porn performers, agents, and producers. This information comes in the form of dangerous breaches of privacy (i.e. performers’ real names, phone numbers, and addresses) and exaggerated, often times false, claims of personal history.

Contributions are littered with racial, anti-semetic, homophobic, and/or sex-shaming remarks. And not just anyone can amend them. The ability to post, edit, or delete information on Porn Wiki Leaks is reserved for registered users only. Those who post porn-positive articles on the site or attempt to take down potentially damaging information are banned. Thus, the intent behind the website becomes clear. It exists to terrorize pornographers.

The name-calling could be written off as amateurish internet trolling. But it’s the birth names, family information, and physical addresses that can lead to real-life violence. Because of Porn Wiki Leaks, obsessive fans and anti-porn zealots now have access to the people they want to fuck, harm, stalk, or do whatever else to. The damage is not just speculative. Performers have since laid claim to vandalism, burglary, and even physical assault outside of their own homes.

In the context of such acts, the language on the website can be seen as all the more dangerous. Slurs against performers work in the same way as every other form of bigoted, hate speech. They establish victims as somehow less than human and therefore deserving of abuse. But while the nature of this speech is most frustrating, it also quite difficult to counter.

It’s in part due to this:

One of the most fundamentally important causes taken up in the production of pornography is that of free speech. Its long history with obscenity prosecution has dragged Evil Angel’s John Stagliano to the Supreme Court, and landed performer/director, Max Hardcore, in prison. In the case of these two men, and every other charged with the crime, the circumstances are always the same. Someone, somewhere in The United States, views porn they find to be too extreme and lacking in artistic merit. So on the case of someone’s arbitrary sexual taste, pornographers are tossed into court to defend their right to distribute profitable, sexual material.

Without even knowing it, many performers have come to participate in this defense. By having sex in an unconventional manner, and filming it, one risks the opportunity to be considered obscene. And by continuing to do so, one makes a statement: “This is what I want to do. Whether it’s to pay my bills, get off, or try something new, I find this relevant to my current place in life, and therefore necessary.” If the government deems such actions to be obscene, it is taking a stance on the nature of personal choice, restricting it, and then making that choice in the place of the individual.

If the act were not by choice, it would be considered rape, and therefore illegal for an entirely different reason. However, this is rarely ever the case in pornography. It could never have thrived under the watch of both the public eye and law enforcement if the industry based itself on force and coercion.

But if the stance of pornography is freedom of speech, choice, and expression, how does one combat the overwhelming wave of anti-porn propaganda? At the end of the day, every other form of media has just the same freedom to tell pornographers they’re dangerous, or worse yet, sub-human scum.

So it’s back to square one. Porn remains in a standoff of unequal proportion. The new breed of tech-savvy performer, the pro-porn feminist, the sex blogger, and the alternative press; they’re largely drowned out by mainstream film, television, and online media.

Yet mainstream outlets have all but teamed up with pornography in a combined effort to sell sex. The effect is a world media over-saturated by sexually provocative imagery.

In the same way that corporate commodification of punk rock has rendered the genre stale and easily digestible, the mass accessibility of sexually explicit material has turned porn into something status-quo. Hollywood actors, pseudo-celebrities, and children of the upper class have released sex tapes and continued on in relative success. Ads for top-tier merchandise regularly display models in little-to-no clothing. And hardcore sex has long since been depicted in independent and art-house cinema.

Given these examples, it’s hard to distinguish why pornography now stands alone in its battle to remain both a legal and legitimate form of entertainment. The only difference between a contemporary advertisement for jeans and a hardcore porn film is the degree of explicitness, and the level of honesty in regards to selling a product based on sex. While neither is necessarily shocking to the average consumer, one unmistakably bears the brunt of a well-rounded assault.

Why then would anyone become a pornographer in this day and age? What exactly is the point? I’d argue that some have not quite caught on to current state of things. Many still believe there are fortunes to be made. But for most who find themselves fucking for a living, the financial incentive is no more than a rocky path towards middle-class existence; one without job security, benefits, or a retirement plan.

So what else is there? What is the appeal? Well, here’s an idea that might make sense. Porn is something most anyone can do and still feel different. It is so easily accessible, and yet once that threshold is crossed, once someone steps on to the other side of the camera, a tangible transformation takes place. After one sex scene, an average person can become a porn performer. And that person/performer will forever be viewed in a different light.

Fans may adore them and adult producers may sing of their praises. But outside of a relatively small group of supporters, pornographers face – at best – misunderstanding, and – at worst – fear, contempt, and legal prosecution. While this sounds like more of a deterrent than incentive, it may not be for some.

Consider the reasons one might involve themselves in something like punk rock. During the infancy of any transgressive subculture, there is little outside support or understanding. Part of the appeal lies in its inherent distinction from mainstream society. And while contemporary hardcore porn is no longer in its infancy, it remains a medium with a most unusual dichotomy. Porn has become all but conventional, and yet it retains much of its boundary-pushing roots. I can think of no other form of media that is so widely consumed and yet vilified.

If one were to look at the history of contemporary hardcore porn and punk rock, it could be said that they both emerged as a refuge for some breed of societal deviant. But harsh sounds and sexual imagery proved far more popular than anyone could have imagined. Punk ended up on the soundtracks of commercials and video games, and porn infiltrated all corners of the internet. They both cashed in. However, that’s where their similarities ended.

Porn is the new punk because it has shifted backwards. The golden era of its success is over. Internet piracy and over-saturation have countered the scales so that the risks of porn may now outweigh the benefits. Of course there is still money to be made in the adult industry. But it’s of a more modest sort than perhaps ever seen before.

For the new generation of pornographer, there is inevitably a fight to be had. No longer is there an option for passive stance. If a performer fucks for cash, chances are it’s a (borderline) illegal act that challenges the notions of free speech, choice, and expression. It’s also a one-way ticket to the land of public scorn.

So for less money, and more problems, you’ve got to be kind of “punk rock” to jump into porno. You need to be tough to endure so much for the opportunity to participate in such a simple performance. In a world where documented sex is all but common place, it’s absurd that pornographers catch any flack at all. But that’s why it’s still dangerous. It’s why porn is the new punk.

Addendum:

Shortly after writing this essay, it was brought to my attention that Porn Wiki Leaks has gone off-line – likely for good.

Performer, Kayden Kross, followed the site’s disappearance with an in-depth article for AVN.com on the history of the Porn Wiki Leaks, the damage done to its victims, and joint effort launched to take it down.

I would like to thank Mike South, Michael Whiteacre, Kayden Kross, Mercedes Ashley, Sean Tompkins, and everyone else who had a role in bringing bringing down the website. The success of the vigilante effort is proof that conscious activism is still alive in the adult industry.

In light of this event, I hope the title of my piece is reinterpreted to mean something less bland and exhausted. Whether porn continues its slide, or regains the momentum to climb its way back up, its more than likely there will be those kicking and screaming for the right to participate. [g]od willing, I’ll be one of them.

Danny Wylde is a pornographer, writer, and filmmaker living in Los Angeles, California. He updates his personal blog at http://trvewestcoastfiction.blogspot.com.