f you read the title and you’re not already a veteran of family-gathering-sex-talk your pulse has probably already begun to rise. Hell, even if you’re used to it, this final boss of awkward topics can be stressful to even contemplate. I’ve been trying to fight sex negativity and shame since I was in High School and my voice still starts to tremble when I bring up porn around some of my loved ones. I push through that fear and do it anyway, though, and I think you should too.
Sex might feel like a private matter, but in practice it is not. People happily announce when they’re trying for a new baby. They arrange raunchy trips to gentlemen's clubs for their best friends before their weddings. They gossip about their acquaintances’ promiscuity in coded language behind their backs. Most importantly, they vote politicians into office who strip away our rights to sexual education, expression, and entertainment. While it’s perfectly understandable to keep one’s own desires out of the judgmental gaze of a great aunt, it perpetuates the destructive cultural myth that sex is somehow inherently unclean and inappropriate — the same myth that marginalizes sex workers and makes banning porn sound more like a joke than a frighteningly imminent threat to basic freedoms.
It’s easy (especially if you don’t work in the Adult Industry) to imagine this conversation as entirely random, awkward and pointless. How would it even come up? “John, could you please pass the cranberry sauce?”
“Sure, Grandma, by the way have you seen Siouxsie Q’s new scene where she fists Michael Vegas?” — that kind of thing only flies in the Randall household. I promise you, though: when you keep an eye out for opportunities, they come up. It can be as simple as commenting on how a mainstream actress looks like Sasha Grey (and answering honestly when someone says “who’s that?”) or mentioning how you’ve seen a few interviews with Stormy Daniels’ when she comes up as a jab at Donald Trump.
There are so many subtle ways to remind people around you of the full humanity of sex workers without forcing the conversation to take a sharp left turn into intimate details of your masturbatory life.
If you do think it’s safe enough to get a little braver about sexual topics, though, that’s a great way to help normalize sex work and fight forcefully against the subtle, pernicious sex negativity that permeates our culture. Some examples from my own life include answering honestly when family members asked about my trip to Amsterdam — “It was great! Those sex shows in the redlight district can be super overpriced, though, and kind of boring. I would have preferred to see more kinky circus tricks and less repetitive vanilla sex.” — and being open about where I went for Spring Break last year: “Ooh yeah, it was so fun! I’d never been to a fetish convention before and I was really nervous, but everyone there was so sweet and friendly! I’m definitely going back next year.”
Of course, it’s not always safe or appropriate to bring up sexual subjects at the dinner table. Your Evangelical parents who tried to pray the gay out of you might not be the people to try this with, and this stuff obviously isn’t good to bring up around kids. Even in safer situations it’s not always easy and you can’t expect your shame to dissipate overnight: I recently caught myself calling my yeast infection an “intimate problem,” like some sort of coy television ad, and had to laugh. It’s worth a shot, though, especially if you’re someone with the privilege of coming off “normal” and inoffensive in most aspects of your identity.
That’s the thing, if you don’t work in the Adult Industry (and you don’t belong to a group surrounded by sexual fearmongering at the moment, like trans people) you likely have the option to keep your sexual reputation relatively clean in the eyes of your in laws. That’s not as likely to be true for your cousin who just got into OnlyFans or your niece who’s getting through college with the help of a Sugar Daddy. At best they might be able to keep these aspects of their lives relatively private and awkwardly skirt around basic questions with vague allusions to “content creation.” At worst, they could be excluded and ridiculed. Maybe your niece who got into exotic dancing won’t be disowned when her parents find out, but she could easily start being treated as a sort of awkward elephant in the room — not asked much about her life, not invited to as many gatherings, or snickered about with whispered euphemisms and meaningful looks. She might not be able to pick shameless confidence and sex positivity, but you probably can.
So, please, if it’s safe for you this holiday season, bring up porn at Thanksgiving dinner. Your sex worker family members (who probably exist, even if you don’t know about it yet!) will be glad you did. And hell, you might even get a reputation for being the bold family weirdo who stands up for what they believe in. Welcome to the club — I have to say, it’s pretty fun.
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