DISCLAIMER: This post is rooted in a feminist/pro-feminist analysis, and as a result, it may lead readers to assume certain things about me politically and personally (e.g. that I am living, have lived, and will continue to live a responsible, pro-feminist lifestyle). The fact is, I committed a crime in January 2007, sexually violating a woman who was under my care as a resident advisor in college. I ask that you keep this information in mind when evaluating my comments in this post, as well as if you engage me in dialogue. Please read this post (listed as “Because you deserve to know” on the “ARCHIVES” page) for more information.
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Update (5/13/08): I refer to the anti-pornography conference at Wheelock College that was held in March 2007, the first event of its kind in several years. Please check out Britta’s post for her reflections on that event.
As I sit in the Austin airport awaiting my flight home (well, to Denver, then as close to “home” as one might expect a major airline to travel when home is rural Iowa), I am tired, disheveled, and thanks to the excellent people at Super 8, defying what was once firmly believed to be a limit on the level of one’s hair “fluffiness.” I am also gradually entering a state of readiness to process and reflect upon the events of this weekend at the “Stop Porn Culture” feminist anti-pornography training at UT-Austin.
Overall, the training experience has been very meaningful. I have learned a great deal and feel much more prepared to speak in front of diverse groups of people, sharing feminist critiques of pornography, the rape culture, and ultimately, patriarchy. More importantly, I have a better sense for how to respond to questions from audience members in ways that genuinely address their ideas and concerns. Also, it goes without saying that the weekend has rejuvenated my spirit as an activist. Much of my work in activism – for as long as I have been intentional about it, referring to it as “work” to reflect its planned, critical, and strategic foundations – has been largely in isolation. While I built meaningful relationships with a handful of activists as an undergrad – primarily other students and a few faculty at BV – I never became a part of anything that might resemble a “network” of activists beyond the campus, certainly far from a network devoted to a particular cause. So it is very special to me being part of a movement (quasi-movement?) that is growing through collaboration and solidarity.
I went to the training in Austin to learn about how best to speak out against pornography from folks who have been doing this direct work for a long time, as well as people who are relatively new. I was not, at least explicitly, seeking refuge or support, which was an interest that inspired and shaped my experience in Boston. I still struggle with finding refuge and healing from the damages of living in a rape/porn culture, which I hope to discuss later in this post. But my goal for Austin was very practical, and it’s safe to say it was accomplished.
As I have mentioned before, the feminist anti-pornography conference at Wheelock College in Boston last March marked a turning point for me as an activist. For the first time in my life, I was part of a movement, albeit small and certainly struggling for momentum after years of backlash and misguided attacks from right, left, and everywhere in-between. I had done anti-rape work, and to some extent anti-pornography work, before – I was a leading voice for these causes on campus. But it wasn’t until the Wheelock conference that I saw this movement take shape. Not in any triumphant way – we didn’t move mountains, and frankly, we have a long way to go before we make the slightest dent in the pornography industry itself and the woman-hating culture it supports. But we were present, striking up a conversation that the general public has long forgotten (and perhaps never understood). And I’ll be damned if that didn’t mean something to each and every one of us.
The training did not carry the same magic for me as the conference, a change that certainly has its pros and cons. The feminist (and pro-feminist) icons whom I had held up on pedestals for their ability to cut through patriarchal ideology and declare a message of hope and justice for our world did not hold the celebrity status I seemed to inadvertently assign to them previously. I recall sitting near John Stoltenberg at the Boston conference, desperately wanting to strike up conversation, yet being terrified of saying the wrong thing, not saying anything at all, or perhaps even beginning to say something really thought-provoking and suddenly my head starts spinning around! Honestly, it’s not important or relevant what logical (or illogical) end might be in store as I made an effort to strike up conversation. I was frozen with anxiety. John has for a long time represented a sort of pro-feminist ideal for me, particularly due to his keen insight, loving compassion, and careful scrutiny of the role of men in the movement. And as I never met the late Andrea Dworkin, who has been more influential than anyone else on my involvement with feminism (and any form of radical politics), it would be easy to treat John, her life partner, as a strange sort of proxy.
Fortunately, I am learning how to see other activists as human – imagine that! – recognizing and embracing our imperfections, bad habits, and of course, the personal instability that comes with constantly trying to disrupt the status quo, yet trying to find a space and time in which to exist (perhaps even flourish). Dworkin is not a god, Stoltenberg is not perfect, and as a whole, those of us who do anti-rape and anti-pornography work have issues. We’re human, of course, but more specifically, our presence as human beings has exposed us to the significant (as well as misunderstood and ignored) harms of living in a rape culture. Many of us have been abused or have loved ones who have suffered. Many of us, whether personally or in professional roles, provide direct support to survivors every day, often struggling with the notion of “cleaning up” after the mess patriarchy has created and feeling little hope that things can change.
Bob Jensen made an important point to the group as our time together drew to a close: “Not everyone gets better.” This is certainly true of survivors of sexual violence, who are far too often met with frustration, even blame, from loved ones who simply cannot understand why they haven’t “put the pieces back together.” And I think it might be a fair statement regarding anyone doing anti-rape or anti-pornography work. It is the most heartbreaking experience for me as an advocate not to be able to tell a survivor that everything will be fine, that with the right amount of support and determination, she will be able to move on with her life, and in some sort of meaningful way, feel okay. The reality is that not everyone gets better, and whether we call it the “rape culture” or “porn culture,” we are living in a society that actively prevents healing from taking place.
Getting to know Austin (during a few spare hours here and there) was exciting. I can save myself plenty of time and energy describing the experience by simply stating that Austin is not in Texas. Regardless of what you might have learned about geography growing up, even as you may have memorized Austin as the capital of Texas, it is simply not true that Austin is associated in any way with the state of Texas – culturally, politically, geographically, etc. I won’t bother theorizing about how this is possible or how to resolve any apparent contradiction you may be concerned about reading this. Come to Austin, you’ll understand.
FRIDAY
My day started very early on Friday. After attending the girls’ basketball game against West Monona Thursday night – their first game of the conference tournament – I slept for a few hours (sitting up, computer in my lap, with my head resting on my shoulder (mmm, cozy) and left for the airport at 2:30am. I arrived at the airport at about 4:30 and made friends with the TSA people. Word to the wise: check your pants for metal snaps before going through security… well, actually, check before you leave the house (I don’t think they let you take your pants off at security, though I wouldn’t be surprised if Homeland Security incorporated that into their lovely “Danger! Danger!” color scheme). So yeah, I experienced the joy of a stern look from my new TSA friend and his proud declaration: “This is a hand-held metal detector, and if you have a weapon on you, I WILL FIND IT.” I laughed, not because he was joking, but because I thought that was better than taking off running toward my plane yelling, “You’ll never catch me alive!” That stunning exchange was followed by a fashion show (“You sure have a lot of snaps!”) and a loving pat-down, and then I was on my way.
My flights went okay – I passed the time re-reading “Not for Sale: Feminists Resisting Prostitution and Pornography” (a vital resource for anyone concerned about the sex industry) and listening to David Sedaris on my iPod. Once arriving in Austin, I checked into the luxurious Super 8, which actually was very nice. I did not expect their unwritten “all or nothing” policy on hot water when I took a shower, but all in all, the stay was okay. In fact, the beds were so comfortable that my “short nap” was extended for a few hours, leading me to miss the Friday night training activities. Friday night was a presentation of the slideshow created by Gail Dines, Rebecca Whisnant, and Robert Jensen for use by activists – I would like to have taken part, especially to discuss responses to the slideshow and ethical considerations regarding the use of actual images of pornography. But I had seen the slideshow and even presented it a few times.
SATURDAY
Saturday featured a series of presentations by Rebecca Whisnant (feminist theory and pornography), Gail Dines (media theory), Lierre Keith (oppression in U.S. history), Bob Jensen (masculinity and men’s use of pornography), and Matt Ezzell (patriarchal ideology in “lad mags”). With the exception of Matt’s presentation, which was even more startling to a few folks than the pornography slideshow (as it revealed the extent to which porn culture dominates men’s magazines), the presentations were not necessarily anything new for me. But I thought we covered an excellent range of issues and analyses that are vital for any feminist anti-pornography activist. I think we could have gone a bit further on the discussing the way men experience pornography as media and how it influences attitudes and behaviors. There are generally three approaches to media analysis – 1) production (political economy), text (or content), and decoding (or reception). We focused primarily on analyzing pornography as text, relating that to production. But as the “porn as fantasy” myth is so prevalent, I thought we could have spent more time on discussing how pornography (which by the way, involves real things happening to real people) shapes the sexual imagination, as well as how hopelessly uncritical we are about sex in media (i.e. how consumers receive or decode the messages in pornography). I’m always amazed by how many men I meet “get it” that pornography (including that pornography they use) is sexist and can articulate why, yet they do not relate that knowledge to any sort of moral obligation not to use pornography (or support the sexual exploitation industries in other ways). And we could also have talked more about Right-wing “critiques” of pornography as obscenity that actually fall well (wow, unintended play on words there) within patriarchal ideology. But really, there is so much we could talk about, the training could have easily lasted a week.
As I’m writing, I realize that I am skipping over a lot of important subtle details of the presentations that were very meaningful. Focusing on one particular example, though, I deeply appreciate much of what Gail Dines brings to feminist analysis (and of course, what she has done for several years to make this all possible), but more specifically, I appreciate what she brings to this work as a parent. The last couple times I have heard her speak, she has emphasized the need for parents to be involved in this movement, working against a culture that strives to objectify, commodify, and then sexualize their children, particular girls. She also addressed the tremendous challenges parents face to help their children critically engage media in ways that can, at the very least, expose hidden ideologies and foster a space in which children can live free of media assaults on their humanity. On the flight home, I began reading a new book called “Packaging Girlhood: Rescuing Our Daughters from Marketers’ Schemes,” which appears to be a useful guide for parents who are concerned about the effects of media on children. Keep in mind, though, the “Rescue” generally does not mean censoring or hiding media from children, but instead, helping them think critically about it (which, if I were to add my two cents, is the only realistic approach). Anyways, with Gail’s influence and some new reading, I am beginning to appreciate much more the unique position of parents in movements for social justice. Suffice it to say that if I was a parent in this society and had to deal with the everyday exploitation of children (through gender socialization, commercialism, and the porn culture), it’s safe to say I would be a much more hostile and bitter activist.
A young man – which I feel silly saying since I am young enough to be the son of the majority of the training participants – who attended a brief portion of training Saturday night spoke about three activist friends of his who had committed suicide in the past year. Clearly their stories are each unique and complicated, but the implicit message was that each individual struggled so much with this fundamental disconnect we live as activists (passionately and courageously pursuing a just and sustainable world when so many interrelated forces are at work, actively destroying any possibility of realizing such a goal) became too much to bear.
It was unbelievably appropriate that the hour or so during which the young man joined us we were trying out an exercise from Allan Johnson that included what we need from ourselves, from each other, and from institutions to build a movement. Thinking “strategically,” as we are so accustomed to doing as activists, there are countless things we could have said about gaining a voice in education, law, government, public health, and (gasp!) even religion. But many of the comments made centered on personal well-being and the need to take care of ourselves and each other. While my mindset was much more practical at the time, largely because all five presentations from earlier in the day had merely provided concepts and analyses with which I was intimately familiar (and had spoken about on multiple occasions), it was heartwarming and very, very encouraging to know that we had not forgotten how much we deeply need to foster peace and tranquility in our lives, especially as activists. And furthermore, as participants openly shared their concerns and vulnerabilities, I was reminded just how much we need each other to maintain, to keep going, and as Bob Jensen (crudely, but in such a way that captured a shared feeling about the assault of injustice on activists) put it, “to keep from going crazy.”
SUNDAY
Sunday morning was a rigorous mock Q&A session challenging members of our group to respond to common questions or concerns audiences present. There are a variety of questions that arise in response to feminist critiques of pornography, but below are a few we discussed. I would like to leave out the full responses I would typically give in response to these questions – “full” responses, or at least those that I would consider thorough and educational, would be best highlighted in a separate post (or posts). So, bear with me as I develop those responses for future posting.
No one is forcing women to be in pornography – they are making a choice, and they know what they’re getting into.
What about women who watch pornography?
What’s wrong with rough sex?
Pornography is just a fantasy – it has nothing to do with real life.
Porn/rape is just natural (biological).
Porn is liberating because we live in a repressive culture.
At noon on Sunday, as we concluded, Bob Jensen asked participants to express any thoughts they wanted to share with the group as we part ways and reflect upon the weekend. Most everyone shared something about being thankful for being a part of a group of activists concerned about pornography and violence against women. A few commented specifically on the dedication, thoughtfulness, and generosity of participants. The training was highly collaborative, and there was clearly a sense that we each appreciated the value of working as a whole, for clarity (which seemed to be a common expression in relation to intellectual development and understanding of feminist critiques), but perhaps more importantly, for the emotional complexities of being an activist. In addition to learning through new and challenging perspectives, we also recognized the value of collaboration and solidarity to the success of any movement.
I expressed that I felt fortunate to be a part of a group of such compassionate and courageous individuals – as a human being, as an activist, but specifically as a male doing anti-rape and anti-pornography work. Being welcomed as an ally into the feminist movement is not something I take lightly, nor is it something I accept without seriously investigating the motives and intentions behind my involvement with feminism, as well as actively confronting the male privilege that exists in and outside the movement.
