The Great Equalizer

At Fry's Electronics, I saw this older man purposefully wandering the Adult DVD section. It's one thing to see people sheepishly poking their heads into the aisle, but this man confidently took his time.











At the train station last week, I saw this CD binder left behind. I opened it checking to see if there was any contact information, and like all nosy people, I examined the contents. Most of the CDs were typical, but at the end of the binder, I found this Adult DVD, "Hit it Hardcore 4."

Thinking about these two separate incidents, I wondered why the issue of pornography is sometimes so funny but other times so dangerous. I believe the inherent humor and danger surrounding pornography stems from the idea of personal vulnerability.

There is something vulnerable about revealing one's sexual desires.

Most humor regarding pornography should be rooted in the commonality of sexual desire. Because every person, regardless of degree, feels sexual urges, it is sometimes appropriate to make light of a situation involving pornography. And because desire is a universal feeling—much more so than many other types of basic (and less taboo) emotions—people can harness that commonality and participate in laughter built on the equality of our sexual desires.

But this is not the case. Often times, people feel too vulnerable revealing their innermost sexual desires. Sexual urges, closely associated with being naked, is understandably a psychologically vulnerable emotion. From that physical and psychological vulnerability, people often maliciously mock others in an effort to hide their own desires from view. I recently read a novel that explained it very well:

"No one admitted to liking [porn mags]...But you remember how it was. If [a porn mag] turned up in a room, everyone pretended to find it dead boring. Then you came back half an hour later and it would always be gone" (Ishiguro 133).

The danger in pornography, like its humor, resides in the audience's vulnerability. Despite many arguments to the contrary, pornography is objectification of sexual desire. Whether it is women, men, or the act of intercourse itself, there is a clear aesthetic boundary between audience and art, and that is objectification. But I believe the debates of pornography should not revolve around objectification versus non-objectification; the true debate lies in the healthful versus unhealthful use of pornography.

There is nothing innately wrong with having some personal fantasies. Each person has the right to explore themselves and their sexual desires. But often times, this right to self-exploration turns into an obsession that can harm one's interpretation of the real world.

Women in the porn mags are not the same women we meet every day. While this may seem obvious, I find that many people have fallen onto the dangerous side of this idea and taken their porn attitudes with them into the real world. Not all women love anal sex. Not all women love semen on their faces.

Applying stereotypes from the porn world to the real word—there lies the danger.

The human mind is vulnerable to influence. And while porn is not inherently bad, the intense visual, audio, and tactile stimulation can attack human vulnerability and create powerful, negative sexism.

Because pornography deals to one of humanity's most basic instincts, it is the great equalizer. Everyone feels these urges, and everyone expresses these urges. I feel no shame to admit I have sexual desires, and I find it hypocritical to deny these natural feelings. Granted, I do not know the intentions of the Fry's-Adult-DVD consumer or the "Hit-it-Hardcore-4" owner, but, if they are in the correct mindset, I applaud their efforts to be self-aware and have some fun in the process.


Works Cited:
Ishiguro, Kazuo. Never Let Me Go. New York: Vintage, 2005.