Pornography is not about sex

I stumbled across two very interesting articles over the past few days. Neither one of them are religious in nature and both of them expose the darker elements of pornography. Both of them are written by individuals who are or were in some way involved in the porn industry.

The first is by Evan Wright, perhaps most known for his book Generation Kill which was the basis for an HBO miniseries. His new book is Hella Nation and it was because of this book and an interview with him that I learned of his past. Wikipedia contains a link to his article on Salon.com describing his experience as entertainment editor and chief pornographic reviewer for Hustler magazine (in his interview he discussed, quite humorously, how he landed this job).

The article discusses his experience and how it caused him to wonder if it had made him misogynistic or if it drew out the misogyny already present.

CAUTION: This is not for the fainthearted. Though there are no photos, the descriptions are blunt and graphic. Addicts are at once repulsed and yet drawn to the darkness of the things described herein.

I'm reminded of the words of William S. Burroughs from Naked Lunch (no pun intended):

Look down LOOK DOWN along that junk road before you travel there and get in with the Wrong Mob...

A word to the wise guy.

Maxed Out

The most recent article is from AdBusters magazine and this one came via email as I've semi-followed AdBusters for many years now. This article is by Douglas Haddow, described as "the last of the great film-school slackers." The article discusses the rise of the porn industry and its relation to the "fragmented state of modern masculinity."

CAUTION: This one is even more explicit (i.e. there's lost of profanity and graphic description of "sex" acts). The language is harsh and the subject matter is described in all its rawness, no holds barred. Again, it's not for the fainthearted but it's spot on.

Here's a snippet:

In order to compete with porn, the mainstream media appropriates the pornographic, which in turn forces porn producers and websites to create more vicious and chaotic content. The mainstream becomes porn and porn gradually edges closer to snuff.

Pornocalypse Now

It's refreshing that such critiques and exposes are being brought openly to the mainstream.

Why not a sex addict?

My ego would prefer to be a sex addict. Being a porn addict sounds sleazy, cheap, creepy, perverted. At least as a sex addict you've got what it takes to get some. Even though it hurts another human being, at least there is another human being; at least there is contact. The porn thing is introverted, i.e. loser.

It's the paradox of being an addict. My addiction is compared to another's. If I'm going to be an addict, I want to be the "best" at it. Believe me, there are competitions when it comes to swapping horror stories of addiction, a sense of pride in divulging just how low a person has been. It isn't just the sharing and depth of horror shared that determines one's level of recovery but the amount of pride or humility in which someone shares the story.

I'd say it's a continuum. The truest of healing is reflected in pure humility (and not self-degradation or self-deprecation); someone still in the throes of addiction will speak with pride, even braggodocio, of the depths of depravity to which they've sunk.

But the reality is that each form of addiction is still that: an addiction and, as such, is on par with alcohol, drugs, food or any other form of addiction and all, in some form or other, harm others as a consequence, though all addictions can lead to total and complete isolation as well when the addiction causes one to be so self-centered that all choices involve the addiction over or at the expense of any and all relationships except those that somehow benefit the addiction.

So in pondering the attraction of pornography, I have realized that in the objectification of the actors what I am really doing is role playing my psyche. I am at once the one in power and the one whose power is being taken. There are times watching porn where I have a moment of conscience that usurps the numbness and I see, in horror, the look of pain in the eyes of the woman. Instantly I'm torn. There is arousal, yes, but not so much "sexual" arousal but the arousal of being in control, of having power to have said woman surrender her power, and simultaneously desiring to help, save, even love the woman who is longing for the same, her surrender of power actually a desire for love.

I am at once the perpetrator and the victim, both sides of my psyche being played out and watch live in front of me. I am the man assuming power; I am the woman who needs saved. In a sense, I am taking my own power and longing to save myself. It is the disconnect, the barrier I have created around my wounded soul, that allows this distancing so much so that I can watch "objectively" without the pangs of conscience, the lack of recognition of the symbolism I am witnessing on the screen.

Any and all fetishes or deviations venture forth from this premise, the darkness in said fetish representing some aspect of self-identification based in lack of love.

So pornography addiction isn't about sex. Sex is an objectification of interior battles, scars and hidden spots that are manifest un- or even subconsciously onto the screen. This is how women become sex "objects" and how men often devalue the personhood of women in an effort to resolve, unaware, their own inner demons.

Why Write About This? Who Cares?

Those are valid questions. It can appear as self-absorption, drama, attention getting or just plain strange, especially to those who know or have known me or carry some memory of me. It would seem my life is defined by addiction. This is true on some level as I have, over time, been addicted to pretty much everything I came into contact with, whether it be eye or nose drops, various caffeinated things, sleeping pills, drugs, alcohol, pornography and the addiction of addiction.

So who cares? No one, really. As Gordon Gano wailed: "...we've all been through some shit." People may relate and may find interest or curiosity in it but unless there is hope, unless there is a way out, it's just self-absorption, self-pity or self-congratulations.

I write not to vomit the details of an individual's past. We've all got messy pasts, things we're ashamed of, thing we'd go back and change if we could, regrets, the whole shebang. This isn't that. At least it isn't meant to be.

No, I offer hope. I am a living testimony to finding a way out of the darkness. Nothing weird, nothing magical, nothing pie-in-the-sky, nothing threatening, nothing instant. I simply offer my life. I have become much more comfortable, perhaps too comfortable, in discussing these things. Why? They are no longer a secret, a source of shame, something to hide. I'm not there anymore. Oh, the wolf is always at the door. But I'm seeing it from the outside now, much more objectively than when living in the midst of it.

And in openly discussing it, in bringing into the penetrating brightness and heat of the light, all the illusions and delusions and madness of these things melt away and that innocent childlike love that was kept locked inside for so long is allowed to shine forth.

The journey, in the end, is about love.

Pure Love

The purest of love would be so externally "other" centered that such a love could not love singly. It would be an all encompassing love.

As humans, though we may have an unlimited capacity to love, our nature is such that we only have a limited ability to actually do it. We often love out of lack, out of need, out of want.

The purest of love would come from someone so complete that love would flow from abundance, out of a "knowing" of the depths of the human condition and still the choice would be made to love, not in a dichotomous fashion, but in a pure "knowing" of purpose, in spite of, even because of, the knowledge of the human condition.

Freedom from Addiction

If you struggle with pornography, this video is a must see:



If you think Christ is for lightweights, think again. Below is a great site for some testimonials of what Christ has done for people.

Gospel Theology for the Real World

There is help and there is hope.

Pornography is about power...

Pornography is not about sex. Sex is the means. It is about power whether it be about taking power or having power taken. There is no love in pornography. There is no relationship. There is base animal instinct. The only difference is the fetishization of it, the channeling of the power of the role playing into the varieties of human desire.

Plain and simple: it is about power. In many cases, the viewer can be both the powerful and the powerless. I suppose I hold a Daoist view, seeing in each role the seed of the other so in watching a man have sex with a woman the fantasy is not only that of the man "getting the girl" but, depending on the level of violation of the woman, part of the viewer can also be tapping into a place within where power is taken.

I have discovered that the many different fetishes, all compartmentalized, and categorized, are representative or symptomatic of some deep seeded issues and if the apparent separateness of them all can be rooted to an event or events it becomes possible to see the thread between them and it becomes possibly to allow a healing balm to stitch together the disconnectedness.

The ability of the human mind to disconnect and isolate based on a symbolic level and have it manifest is incredible. Whether it be vintage porn which takes me back to the beginning of this darkness or the other varieties that tap into other areas of my life which the rupture in my innocence had opened up there is really no limit as to how deep it can go.

Porn involving children has never been an interest and is not always the way such addiction leads. The theory that a traumatic event and the origins of addiction leave the person at that age in whatever area of trauma the event occurred. So for sexual abuse, the person remains sexually immature. I managed an apartment complex for the dually diagnosed, people with a mental illness and substance abuse, for about a year and a half and realized the truth of this. There were individuals there in their forties who had the emotional maturity of a very young person. The abuse and the addiction left that area of their life immature and though they were physically forty, emotionally they acted life children.

But addiction will always take you deeper. I had gotten to the place where the self-hatred was so intense, I began to see how sex and violence intermingle. And it affected my ability to relate to others. The deeper I went, the more the withdrawal, the greater the facade and role play.

But the image that has remained with me for all these years is that of having a trash can over my head when I speak. In my dreams, I frequently dreamed about pursuing something and would ask for help but the person to whom I spoke looked at me as if I was strange. They couldn't hear me, ignoring me, and the frustration was so bottled up I would often awake out of frustration at the inability to speak, my words mumbled and jumbled like the Peanuts characters' parents in the cartoons.

Something in me refrained from going all the way and whenever I would see images of porn involving physical violence and violation, whether actual striking, acts causing vomiting or other forms of violence under the guise of sex, I was at once appalled yet compelled to look, even if just a glance. But it is out there. And it is probably far worse than I can imagine. What was a glance and repulsive could, over time, desensitize and draw me in.

Fortunately, I found salvation. This isn't the cheap variety of salvation, a quick alter call, a thank you Jesus and thinking everything is cool. No, it is so much harder than that, so much more difficult. God shines the light into the darkness but He walks with you through the shadow of the valley of death. But you still have to walk it. But the difference is there is no fear; there is safety, even in the darkness. And when the wounds begin to heal, the healing is permanent as the ego detaches from the power of the wounds.

Don't ever be fooled into thinking it can't get any darker. There is no end to the darkness. The only limit are the safeguards in your life, whether love of family, moral principles or other "natural" means. But even these will break down over time and render the addict powerless. Only when healing truly occurs at the deepest level is there any hope. And, in my case, the healing only truly began with surrender to learning who God is through Jesus Christ.

I am not completely there as there are still issues to work out. But there is an openness, a clarity that has come lately that has been life changing. It isn't quite an objective look at where I've been and how it has affected me but it is quite clear. In fact, the initial incident to which I've traced this did not come back to my memory until a few years ago. I had blocked it out or had rendered it meaningless. But when it came to me after a period of some deep soul searching there was no doubt about it: this was the event.

All the Islam, all the Daoism, all the Zen, while helping me along the path, never did the trick. They paved the way, they opened my heart and mind and gave me a foundation upon which to build. Perhaps I never committed enough, never truly surrendered so this is not to cast judgment upon upon these faith traditions. In fact, I still find great value and wisdom in them. But they are good only in so far as they align with Jesus. But it was only after truly surrendering, and continuing to surrender, to following Jesus that the healing began and the light shone in the darkness of my past.

Of course I project this outward and generalize about viewers of porn. That is my limitation. I, like all of us, am subjective, limited in focus and range and willing to listen to other takes.

After thirty years of this living hell, I can "go there" and break it down if anyone would like. It isn't about sex; sex is the medium. It is about power. And both men and women, viewers and performers alike, suffer because of it.

Pornography Addiction...Continued...

Even before being exposed to pornographic magazines, an incident occurred that had a tremendous impact on what was once an innocent mind. At around the same time as my first exposure to men's (and women's) magazines, at a sleepover in a friend's basement I was put in a situation which would have a deep impact on the formation of my views about sexuality. I don't remember all the details nor do I remember what led up to it. It's possible I've blocked some of it out but I don't believe so as I've been quite open to receiving information from the recesses of my memory and I don't wish to invent something just to have a scar to talk about.

But it involved my friend, who was two years' younger and his older brother who was several years older than me. All I remember was the lights out in the basement and I was asked to drop my pants to expose myself while they shined the flashlight on me. I remember laughter but don't remember any comments. I don't remember them doing the same to one another. All I remember was the feeling that it wasn't right, the discomfort and, later, the shame. This would become my lifelong dirty little secret and thus my source of sexual identity.

Traumatic? Certainly. Abuse? Yes. Now this isn't as horrifying as stories of abuse we all know about. I wouldn't end up on Oprah from having survived this. I have friends who have suffered forms of abuse far, far worse and have noticed the scale of the effects on their lives. Yet an event as "small" as mine had a huge impact, like the proverbial "butterfly effect" of chaos theory. That small perturbation led to a hurricane in my life.

My innocence was lost and with my innocence I surrendered power, my addictions a struggle to get it back. In a purely innocent state, we have maximum power. Abuse ruptures this power and allows influences in, influences which, at a young age, we are not equipped to process. So pornographic images of sexuality became the norm, these tempered by a feeling of guilt and shame; sex would begin to hold a tremendous source of power over my life.

I don't remember whether or not I was shy prior to this but introversion and depression and mood swings became my life. It was after this I began getting into fights, becoming combative, withdrawn, angry, alone. One event followed by layer after layer of accretion to cover the shame and numb the agitation within would be the force driving me. Everything else was an attempt at running away from this vortex in my soul.

Pornography Addiction...

It's 1982. I'm in 8th grade. Fourteen years old. My pornography addiction has been growing for four years now. Of course I didn't know it then. I was just a kid who had suffered sexual trauma and with pubescent hormones was in free fall. I stumbled across this in my 8th grade yearbook, back when I actually took the time to get people to sign it.

There is a long, deeply personal story connected to the girl who signed this, the details of which are not necessary. Suffice it to say it is significant that she wrote this.

At the time, I and another guy were writing essays during study hall to submit to Penthouse magazine. I am astounded at the fact that she knew I did this. Apparently it wasn't that big of a secret. Now it may seem like teenage hormones and no big deal. Perhaps for some this is the case. Not in my case. No, there was something deeper growing, taking root, manifesting. In hindsight, this was a cry for attention, pretty obvious looking back.

Not only was sneaking into my father's stash a regular occurrence (the look of bewilderment on my brother's face when I showed him once still lingers) but I would sneak across the street and break into the garage of a neighbor who has a huge stash of Playboys and Oui magazines. I would sneak into the garage even when no one was there. I could sniff out a stash of men's magazines in any house I entered and have gone so far as to locate them while at various jobs I've held where the opportunity arose whether in an office or in the homes of clientele. Bookstores, cigar shops, didn't matter. I had to seek them out, I had to look.

Fourteen years old.

At ten (perhaps even younger) I was shown my first porno mags. It was at a friend's house where this occurred under the swimming pool deck. He had older brothers who passed this knowledge down. In retrospect, this was a home of abuse. I can't say there was physical violence but I do know for certain the verbal abuse was intense.

I was inundated not only with Playboy and Penthouse but was also exposed to Playgirl magazine. Long before I even knew what sex was, before I had any interest in females, let alone the female body, my young mind was being filled with images of naked women and men and I was introduced to sex.

In the yearbook I took the time to white out some faces (all girls) and scratch out their names. I can't remember why there was such venomous anger, though I do remember that one of the girls was the girlfriend of a friend of mine and when I called her told him she was a 'scum' he wanted to fight me after school. Though I do vaguely remember striking him in the face, all I really remember is a few headlocks and some noogies until my mom showed up and I had to go home.

We were no longer friends after that, even though I had spent the night at his house many times and, ironically perhaps, stayed up 'til the wee hours of the morning watching Cinemax soft porn on Friday nights (the film Malicious comes to mind immediately). Cinemax Friday night softcore films were also a regular staple.

Sadly, I found out many years later that he had committed suicide. Life is so precious and the connection so tenuous and fragile, it is often too much to really comprehend.

But the darkness that was to come and the consequences of these beginnings would not come to the healing light of God's grace for almost thirty years.