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Every human being typically has erotic fantasies and uses imagination to create mental representations. Since many people have similar fantasies, it is possible for one person to produce material that also excites others. That’s why pornography was born: its purpose is therefore to induce a state of sexual arousal.
Pornography derives from ancient Greek γράφω (to write/describe) and πόρνος (pronstitute), and consists of explicit depictions of erotic and sexual subjects in various forms: literary, pictorial, cinematic, and photographic. The debate about the boundary between art, eroticism, and pornography has always been ongoing.
With the advent of Internet, pornography has become immediately and anonymously available almost everywhere to almost anyone[i].
We won’t focus on audience reception here: even an issue like the “uncontrolled access by minors” – in countries no subjected to censorship – is obviously the first problem that comes to mind, and it would require a long digression that I might explore in another article. Instead, this analysis will focus on modern pornography and its relationship with sex work.
How does feminism position within pornographic industry?
Feminism has been deeply divided on this issue. Very briefly, we could summarize in two positions:
- Sex positive feminism consider pornography as a positive and crucial aspect of the sexual revolution that led to the liberation of women’s bodies. It is not in favor of mainstream pornography, as it objectifies or exploits women. Some names: Annie Sprinkle, Susie Bright, Erika Lust, Betty Dodson, Midori.
- Radical Anti-porn abolitionist feminism pornography is absolutely an indicator of patriarchy. Its libertarian interpretation is illusory. Even porn actresses can be victims of sexual abuse or pressured into doing things they do not truly want to do[ii].
Andrea Dworkin identifies a strong facilitation of violence against women in pornography, thus involving physical, economic, and psychological coercion, even when women are portrayed in an active role[iii]. Catharine MacKinnon argues that it exposes women as sexual objects and commodities, conveying a degraded image of them.
All the voices mentioned have been reflecting on this topic for years, or did so in times different from ours. Let’s think about the pornography being produced today. What kind of narratives does it favor? What plots? What characters? The camera’s gaze—where is it focused? Where is it always focused? The male gaze. Mainstream pornography is problematic. It is created solely for male pleasure, and women are represented in stereotypical roles or transformed into fetishes.
Women are always objects of depiction. The woman does not present her own identity; instead, her person is defined exclusively by the man and through categories that reduce women to their nationality or physical features. For example, trans women are usually portrayed as passive, like a third sex apart for fetishists. Non-conforming bodies are always emphasized: fat bodies, disabled bodies, trans bodies, or in any case bodies far from the normative standards of patriarchy.
the only source of pleasure for both sexes is the penetrative sex. The male erection – it’s no coincidence that men are always depicted as well-endowed, and the camera angles are specifically designed with this purpose in mind – and the non-existence of women’s desire.
Given the lack of sexual education in our schools (I’m writing from Italy), the oversimplification of female anatomy becomes problematic—not only for interpreting today’s videos, but also for future generations—encouraging a mechanical approach to sex and spreading misconceptions about pleasure, orgasm, sex, and bodies.
The male gaze doesn’t simply mean “the man who looks at the woman”: it’s both exercise and an expression of power. The man looks but also imagines, establishes the point of view, determines what is pornographic and what is not.
In other words: what excites you.
This is why, when we talk about violence, we inevitably end up discussing pornography—the models it conveys, the violent sex that seems pleasurable and is portrayed as desired by the female participant, and the notion that humiliation during sex is acceptable. Some videos, especially certain categories like hentai or BDSM, are based almost entirely on aggression or sexual violence.
Anti-porn feminists are not entirely wrong if we consider that, like in all fields, pornography also has its extreme illegal branches: from child pornography to snuff films. And by child pornography, we don’t mean the involvement of minor actors, but the illegal distribution of child pornography material. Both are undoubtedly problematic.
Porn actresses are systematically infantilized: they are presented with no body hair, perfectly styled hair and makeup, and smooth, meticulously maintained bodies that conform to societal ideals, always appearing at their peak. They are often dressed in youthful clothing. In the most explicit cases, bodies are extremely thin, with minimal or no curves, increasingly resembling those of young girls. Contropelo, a book by Bel Olid, has highlighted the process of infantilization to which porn actresses are subjected.
Can porn be ethical and feminist?
Feminism, Sex Work, and Post-Pornography
Gayle Rubin and Patrick Califia for example, was one that promoted sex as sexual pleasure for women. Saying that pornography is inherently sexist, misogynistic, and degrading can hide an underlying sexophobia: Who decided that porn would be an exclusively male form of art? Can’t women write or direct a movie as well?
Annie Sprinkle, pivotal in the Sex Positive Feminist Movement of the 1980s, is the first porn star to earn a PhD. With her longtime partner, Elizabeth Stephens, they are active leaders of the Ecosex Movement, where they are committed to making environmental activism more sexy, fun, and diverse.
In her autobiography Post Porn Modernist[iv],Sprinkle discusses the labor politics of the sex work industry and her close relationships to clients, some of whom were disabled, lesbian, transgender, or gay men with HIV/AIDS. She developed new practices such as the breath orgasm—a technique created with Barbara Carrellas—which allowed people infected with HIV/AIDS to experience pleasure without having sexual intercourse.
Annie Sprinkle used the term “post-porn” to describe pornography that breaks from mainstream conventions, rejecting sexist and stereotypical representations, promoting consent, diversity, and authentic pleasure, and challenging the male gaze and traditional narratives. As Judith Butler said[1], not all bodies carry the same “weight” within society. There are bodies that matter, agents of desire, protagonists of political and cultural dynamics. For all the others, however, oblivion is expected: but it is precisely from there that Post-pornography begins. Its aim is to unmask the codes of conventional pornography—sexist, racist, and ableist—and subvert it. The risk of providing a single possible sexual imagery is that the collective consciousness may crystallize models that are completely unattainable for most, thus generating phenomena of social hatred or generalized frustration.
Pro-sex feminist activist Valentine, also known as Fluida Wolf, explains in POSTPORNO (2020) how post-pornography challenges and opposes the sexual imagery of mainstream pornography, embracing the diversity of bodies, practices, and desires.
Fluida Wolf’s life changed when she saw an interview of Ovidie in 2003, a 22-year-old feminist porn star and activist, on a popular Italian TV show. Ovidie was presenting her book “Porno Manifesto: Storia di una passione proibita”[v], in which she reveals the exploitation of minors, mistreatment, and the use of heavy drugs on the sets of adult film productions.
For a concrete implementation of these new principles ofpost-pornographic aesthetics and semiotics,the most prominent figure in the contemporary scene is Erika Lust. Born Swedish, emigrated to Spain, where she founded her production studio in Barcelona.
Lust rejected the idea of the porn world as a male-dominated universe. Through her productions, including the highly successful XCONFESSION series – born from the transformation of public’s sexual fantasies into live-action. Scenes of abuse, coercion, pedophilia, or fetishization are rejected – Lust asserts the centrality of the female gaze, female pleasure, and female fantasies, breaking taboos around sexuality.
The performances her direction creates deconstructs the idea that pornography had been previously understood in terms of quantity rather than quality. Her goal is to bring porn back to an artistic level, like when films were shown in cinemas and reviewed by journalists, along with a feminist and more inclusive perspective.
She emphasizes the sexual, emotional, and mental health of performers, respecting their consent, ensuring labor rights. The strong focus on the well-being of employees is further reinforced by the fact that her studios include a room where any staff member can engage in auto-erotic practices during breaks.
Her performers aren’t professional nor conforming gender identities. Moreover: equal pay; plausible scripts, never trivial or predictable, with the right timing, sexual tension, realistic dialogues.
It’s nice to know that Lust Production’s works are also appreciated by men, indicating how mainstream porn increasingly fails to engage those who are desensitized by it. Furthermore, understanding what excites women can make men less anxious about their sexual performances and more aware of the many ways to share pleasure. As Erika Lust herself highlights, we should keep in mind that pornography is an industry based on representation, not on actual reality, which would require proper sex education. It is simply recreational entertainment.
Further reflections
Pornography is undoubtedly a divisive and problematic issue. In a world informed by capitalism and patriarchal notions, pornography will always be seen as a metaphor for exploitation/commodification of bodies, because it devalues the sacred dimension that we attribute to human’s bodies.
When pornography enters the broader debate on sex work, things become even more complicated. But feminists have taught me that we need to get to the root of things to change them.
Sex work is not prostitution. Let’s start from there.
Prostitution is often involuntary and forced and functions in a world where mainly men pay to have sex with women in the absence of the possibility to do so freely. So corruption is in men’s minds.
But consensual sex work is often seen negatively because we consider bodies sacred and associate their commodification with sin. Is this rooted in religious or spiritual morality? And on what values is this belief based?
It is right to exploit our mental and intellectual qualities and abilities to earn money; why is the consensual commodification of bodies wrong? Our body is something nature gave us and we should control it totally without someone else’s moral intervention. But if the body is a place to exercise control, the fact that someone can use it to make money – as a talented artist or a lawyer with great oratorical skills would do – is questionable or used as a reason to devalue the person who makes this decision with his or her free will.
Through this research in general, it could be argued that feminist porn is possible, or at least a more inclusive pornography made and addressed to diverse typologies of subjectivities, reclaiming their right to pleasure. Post-pornography aims to be educational, artistic, or political, showing that sex can be exploration, empowerment, and cultural performance, not just visual consumption for male pleasure.
The issue is not so much filming two consenting adults having sex: it may not appeal to everyone, but in this instance, I see nothing wrong. The real problem arises when women in the pornography industry are abused or exploited without their knowledge. Everyone is free to make their own choices, and this is indisputable. However, I believe it is essential to keep the debate on pornography alive, not to condemn it outright, but to expose its darker aspects.
But with these ultimate reflections, I want to reflect on the relativity of our ethics and the implications, the paradoxes we encounter when exploring the broad dimension where sex and money meet.
[1] J. Butler, Bodies That Matter: On the Discursive Limits of Sex (1996)
[i] Marco Menicocci, Pornografia di massa: dalla rivoluzione sessuale alla porn culture, Lungavilla, Altravista, 2014, ISBN 978-88-95458-66-3. Ospitato su Academia.
[ii] Catharine A. MacKinnon, Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law, Cambridge, Massachusetts/London, Harvard University Press, 1987, ISBN 067429873X.
[iii] Shrage, Laurie. (2007-07-13). “Feminist Perspectives on Sex Markets: Pornography”.. In: Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
[iv] Annie Sprinkle, Post Porn Modernist (1993)
[v] Ovidie, Porno Manifesto. Storia di una passione proibita, Baldini Castoldi Dalai, Milano, 2003.