Naomi Wolf recently wrote a feature in New York Magazine titled The Porn Myth.
It’s a fantastic — and deeply tragic — piece exploring many of the harmful effects and social ramifications of pornography use.
Wolf says that in today’s world, “real naked women are just bad porn.” Sadly, that is what has happened with the prevalence and influence of pornography. Real women can’t compete with the power and allure of the images marketed to us by the porn industry; the industry that produces, a Wolf says, “a cybervision of perfection, downloadable and extinguishable at will, who comes, so to speak, utterly submissive and tailored to the consumer’s least specification.”
And the effect of porn culture on mainstream culture is unavoidable, Wolf says.
The porn loop is de rigueur, no longer outside the pale; starlets in tabloids boast of learning to strip from professionals; the “cool girls” go with guys to the strip clubs, and even ask for lap dances; college girls are expected to tease guys at keg parties with lesbian kisses à la Britney and Madonna.
And then she offers this:
But does all this sexual imagery in the air mean that sex has been liberated—or is it the case that the relationship between the multi-billion-dollar porn industry, compulsiveness, and sexual appetite has become like the relationship between agribusiness, processed foods, supersize portions, and obesity?
Wolf’s entire feature is well worth the time and energy.
Pornography destroys real love, real relationships and — ironically — real eroticism. Contrary to its marketing strategy, porn doesn’t make you a better lover and emulating it doesn’t make you more sexy. It just makes you more disconnected from your lover while at the same time making you think way too much about whether your “performance” is porn worthy.
Porn de-sanctifies sex; it turns the wonderful, beautiful and sacred gift of sex into a disposable item in which two — or more — lost and lonely people perform hollow and empty sex acts.