Saturday, April 16, 2011

Feminist Porn Awards

The sixth annual Feminist Porn Awards, presented by Good for Her here in Toronto was last night. We had plans to go, but chronic illness and pain trumps any plans. We were able to make it to the Public Provocative Porn viewing the night before, happily. Man, that was fun! There was some April Flores (my favorite!) pieces, so hot, and the last clip was of a film called Mommy is Coming, which is still being edited. Oh em gee! It was funny and sexy and just wonderful. I can't wait for it to come out!

Tristan Taramino introduced the viewing, and her speech was very inspiring. I know that might sound trite, even to me, but her words are making me decision to edit myself. What I mean is, I write porn. I've tried writing other things, but in the end, what moves me, what interests me is porn, or at least stories where the sex isn't edited out. I love sex; it's a huge part of my life. When I write, I write about people like me, people for which sex isn't some passing thing, but is an integral part of their lives, and affects their decision making. Tristan made me feel like it wouldn't be a bad thing to admit it, no to own it.

There was a panel discussion before the porn viewing where the directors, and one actress discussed what brought them to porn, and what motivated them to make the porn they do.  I heard the same answers over and over from them: they couldn't find porn where their own bodies, their own passions were represented; they wanted to make porn that would speak to them, to who they were, and what they desired.

At the time, I didn't think the discussion spoke to me, but now, now it makes me wonder if it really isn't a bad thing to write about women like me. You see, I've been trying to hide, or rather disguise, the fact that most of my heroines are some reflection of me. It felt like cheating. Like I should be writing about someone wholly unrelated to me, that I should be completely making it up. But most of the female authors I read have heroines that are a reflection of them, at least physically, and I'm sure part of them comes out too. I mean, it has to doesn't it? I've read that for some writers their work is a reflection of their life in some way, and for other writers it's really not. One way isn't better than the other; what does it matter as long as the story is interesting? Right?

My hubby and I are thinking about going to a kink party in May. The theme is Horror, Horror movies, Horror novels, the whole Friday the 13th is a bloody day thing. In trying to figure out what kind of costume/outfit to wear, I was once again faced with the issue that women like me aren't in any books or any movies, horror or otherwise. You just never see a fat chick as the heroine, hell, you almost never see a side character that is fat and female. Curvy, voluptuous, sure - on occasion, but not fat, not truly fat. And that's me. I'm fat. I'm not curvy; I'm way beyond curvy. I don't even have giant boobs to offset it! I'm totally jealous of women with nice racks. I mean, I'm not flat chested, I have boobs, but they aren't the first thing you see when you look at me, ya know?

Anyway, the point is, I don't feel like I'm being represented, physically or even mentally in movies or novels, at least none I've read, and certainly not in the type of books I love. I love paranormal books, mystery, violence, sex, vampires, werewolves, stories where the things that go bump in the night are real, and want to eat you.

So maybe it's a good thing to write about women like me. Women of size, us fat chicks, and women of unabashed lust, us women who like sex and aren't going to apologize for it.