Sex & The Digital Age: Reflections From Quarantine
By Katie Lotz
Photograph by Jailli (Charlotte Rainville)
If you’re among the millions of people who are crazy bored while quarantined, you’ve probably found yourself opening up a private browser window on your computer more often than usual. Yes, I’m talking about porn, and if you’re watching more of it during COVID-19, you aren’t alone; visits to PornHub have been spiking since lockdown measures began taking place.
The digital sphere has become our primary means for social contact in recent months, and will likely remain that way for some time as this pandemic runs its course. While the internet can be a great place for people to connect and express themselves, it also comes with a unique set of problems, especially in regards to adult content. Despite the fact that the digital age has been upon us for decades now, the internet is still rampant with sexual misconduct, and we don’t seem to know how to deal with it. However, a quick look into the prevalence of online sexual misconduct reveals a much more deep-rooted cultural issue regarding our understanding of digital consent and agency.
This issue has been exemplified in the recent rise in online slander towards adult performers who have an OnlyFans account, a social media platform where performers are able to set up a paywall for their adult content. Despite the fact that OnlyFans is a safe and legal way for adult performers to distribute their content, countless people seem to feel the need to harass performers, or distribute their content without consent to do so.
Strangely, one of the most popular criticisms of OnlyFans seems to be something along the lines of, “there's plenty of free porn on the internet anyways.” I say that this critique is strange, because it emphasizes that people don’t have a problem with the creation or consumption of explicit content; the issue is not with adult performers showcasing their sexuality. This criticism, and sometimes downright harassment, appears to stem from a disdain for people (primarily women) openly taking charge by profiting off of their own sexuality and bodies.
This same phenomenon can be seen in the ways in which nude photos of celebrities are reacted to. When intimate photos of several high-profile, female celebrities were leaked back in September of 2014 the internet seemed to implode with excitement and (grossly) dubbed this photo leak “The Fappening”, in reference to the amount of people who found sexual gratification at the expense of these celebrities. On the other hand, when public figures such as Miley Cyrus or Kim Kardashian posed for and posted nude photos of themselves in the same year, the internet couldn’t shame them fast enough for daring to be “slutty”. What is it that makes one set of these photos “sexy”, and the other set “wrong”? The answer lies in our skewed understanding of consent and female agency.
Exploitation is not sexy. Why would watching free porn be ethically preferable to paying a sex worker for their content? Why would leaked intimate photos be deemed more attractive than consensual ones? These are not necessarily new questions; the dichotomy of The Prude and The Slut is a Catch-22 that is as old as time. Despite the fact that this is not a new issue the fact that we are all inevitably going to be spending somewhat more time online at the moment makes it an imperative time to discuss the ways in which we should be re-evaluating the ethics behind our digital sexual experiences.
After all, these digital instances of harassment or violations of consent don’t only affect celebrities or sex workers (not to say that the harassment wouldn’t be just as abhorrent if it did); one in twenty five Americans have been victims of revenge porn - the non-consensual creation, sharing (or threats to share) of intimate photos or videos. That adds up to nearly 10 million people in America alone.
So, what do we do about this culture that demonizes consensual displays of sexuality while celebrating nonconsensual ones? Unfortunately, I don’t have all the answers, or even a quick fix. What I will say, is that normalizing respect for sex workers and their content is a good, and independently necessary, first step. For some reason, we have been taught that porn should not be thought of as transactional, even though it absolutely is - just like any other good or service that we consume.
As a result of COVID-19, we are collectively having to rethink our understanding of labor practices, our ideas about physical contact, and our dependence on technology. Why not apply this cultural reset to our understanding of digital sex work and online sexual experiences?
Such a large scale cultural shift may seem daunting, but there are plenty of small things everyone can do in order to help cause this shift. For starters, we should normalize paying for porn. Free porn sites (yes, including PornHub, and basically every other explicit site owned by MindGeek) are often hubs for non-consensual videos, and often these websites take very little action to protect the victims of their videos. Fortunately, there is an abundance of ethical porn that is available, and it’s not that hard to find.
When you pay for your porn, you can be somewhat more assured that the performers whose content you are consuming are treated fairly, compensated for their work, and most importantly, consent to being filmed.
Other changes to digital sexual misconduct are not as easy to make, and require more social and emotional work. Calling out friends who disrespect people’s privacy, participate in the non-consensual sharing of explicit content or slut-shame is not as easy as signing up for an ethical porn site, but it is essential to shifting our collective mindset about digital sexual responsibility.
With all forms of sexual intimacy, consent and respect should be at the forefront. By ethically consuming porn, and respecting if, when, how, and where people choose to share their bodies, we can remind ourselves that digital sexual experiences still require consent and respect. So next time you find yourself trying to beat the quarantine boredom, instead of checking out PornHub and spiking their numbers further, consider branching out and finding a more ethical source for your solo escapades.
Sources:
Coronavirus Insights. Pornhub. March 23, 2020.
Nonconsensual Image Sharing. Amanda Lenhart, Michelle Ybarra, Myeshia Price-Feeney, Center for Innovative Public Health Research. December 13, 2016.
Feminist Porn Sites. FeministPorn.org.