Tales Of The Darklady

Anti-sex-pro feminists posit that if porn disappeared (either by the grace of the goddess or a surgical strike by the government) the world would be a blissful matriarchy where all people would live in peace without embarrassing reminders that the human sexual response doesn’t require years of deep, philosophical foreplay. I personally think this theory is crap. Same goes for the idea that women in the biz are pathetic, dysfunctional victims incapable of making their own important life decisions. But my favorite twist on why it's wrong for women to get naked for money is this: it makes some people uncomfortable.

Now, I don’t know every woman who’s ever been handed a buck for getting naked but I’ve met more of them than the average person. Heck, I’m one of them. And although I’ve met some women whose lives have been fairly short of fairytale perfection I can’t say that makes them unique. Keeping your clothes on is no guarantee of a lifetime free of (dare I say it?) discomfort. And taking your clothes off is no guarantee that your only hope is a good 12-step program or the intervention of a church or "womyn's" group.

When I was growing up, my female role models were pretty unimpressive; mostly virgin saints who came to a messy end young. I spent a lot of time being told to shut up and having my body ridiculed. This made me... uncomfortable. Attempts to conform generally ended in frustration. I was always too something.Mainly too darn Me. I didn’t really fit much of anywhere and so I became an observer and an entertainer (you can’t be good at the latter without being good at the former). I never really took an interest in women or had the opportunity to feel like I had anything in common with them until I started hanging out with strippers and sex workers. I have to echo local dancers, the nymph-like Rain and the naughty-pixie Mona, when they say that, for the first time, they're part of a sisterhood. I’d always squirmed when I’d heard that word previously but, as I sat in the Magic Garden, surrounded by women who enjoy the art of flirting (and dancing) as much as I do and who are brave enough to trust me with the sight of their naked bodies, I realized that even I felt like I was finally part of something that felt almost like an emerging community, a clan, a tribe. I’ve always been rather tribal (thanks to the rituals of my mother’s Catholicism and/or those of my father’s military career) but this time I realized that women were part of my tribe and that I might even be part of theirs.

It requires guts and a pioneering spirit to be naked... in body or in soul. More and more adult entertainment professionals are self-actualized, sex-positive women. If so-called feminists would spend a little more time at strip clubs or watching porn, they might learn a thing or two about what it means to be a woman. Being naked isn’t the be-all and end-all of existence, but neither is wearing clothes. Strippers have the same rights as everyone else to make mistakes and they also deserve the opportunity to achieve great things and take credit for them. There should be help for those who don’t do well and encouragement for those who do... just like any other job or career.

My dream of feminism brings women together and lets us talk openly about what we're good at and enjoy doing. But modern feminism seems so afraid of sexual domination by men that it can’t understand... well, the power of pussy. Our clothing obsessed culture tries to deny that sexuality exists (while creating a lucrative fetish market) instead of seeing it as a healthy part of human nature.

Society continues to demand conformity and to encourage women to divide over the issue of sex work. But women who choose it in spite of this blackmail are starting to see one another (and those who support their efforts) as allies. I believe that the future of feminism lies within the pro-sex community. It's time to grow up... even if it makes us uncomfortable. And I don’t frankly think it matters whether we do it with our clothes on or off.

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