BIPOC-AIC Talks Authenticity, Expression in Adult

LOS ANGELES—“The sky opened up,” says Xoe Nova, a trans performer who counts as his “chosen family” the community of sex workers he has found in the porn world. “(I was) once a bisexual woman doing porn, now (I’m) a bisexual man doing porn. For me, expressing all facets of sexuality is so important.” Nova was one of six performers in a Zoom panel moderated by Tiana Glittersaurus Rex called “Cis 4 Cash, Gay 4 Pay” sponsored by the BIPOC Adult Industry Collective (@bipoc_aic). The Collective, with its active networking, schedule of online seminars open to BIPOC performers, partners, and allies, and even a weekly yoga class, has emerged during the pandemic to be an activist, scholarly forum that regularly reaches beyond its Black Indigenous People of Color roots. Nova describes his pre-transition performing life as “having several layers of plaster on me” and, sparking nods of agreement from other members of the panel, says, “As a trans person, sometimes people don’t know what to do with me.” Each panelist described a struggle to establish or maintain authenticity not only in the porn world but also in real life. Malcolm Lovejoy, a Toronto-based performer who identifies “as a queer human being that explores masculinity, femininity, and androgyny,” describes coming out to his mother and other members of his family as a beautiful experience, but that his father was dismissive and derogatory. Getting nods from the other faces in adjoining Zoom windows, Lovejoy says, “I have a variety of incredibly supportive and incredibly non-supportive people in my life.” The idea of personal and professional authenticity impacts straight porn performers as well. Indeed, most porn counter-programming of the past several decades examines what forces have driven someone to a life in the adult industry. But for several of the “Cis 4 Cash, Gay 4 Pay” panelists, the porn world represents both a genuine safe space where they can find long-sought-after acceptance (as Nova says about working with other trans performers, “it was so transcendent working with someone who was walking the same path with you”) but also the capitalist dilemma of a market indifferent to a performer’s need for self expression. “That’s why I came back,” says Wolf Hudson, a Latino performer who identifies as bisexual and who has been told he was “not dark enough to be Latino.” Not only that, but “in the straight community I’m viewed as gay; in the gay world I’m viewed as not belonging to the community. To this day!” Hudson retired from porn in 2016 but then, experimenting in his personal life, he decided to return on his own terms. “If I’m going to do it, I’m going to be up front about (my sexuality). And the reaction from fans has been ‘Thank You.’” Like Nova, trans performer Milcah Halili credits porn for “healing” them, and describes life as a trans person as one lived under the threat of violence. Working with directors like Shine Louise Houston and Kink.com’s Fivestar, Halili, who said they had spent so much time suppressing their masculinity, found exploration with femme drag “liberating and hot.” To the question “Was there a time that you had to take on an orientation other than the way you personally felt about yourself?” Halili and performer Xerlina Devine admitted to recurrently feeling “Graysexual,” demisexual, or “ace” (asexual), which Halili said, “sounds weird for a porn performer,” but, as Lovejoy pointed out, sometimes the queer experience in porn is not about penetrative sex, but about the expression. Xerlina adds, “I just find humans attractive.” Performer Spencer Expensive is usually cast in “high femme” scenes, and doesn’t feel the problem of identity or authenticity as keenly as the others, but as a queer person says, “I sometimes feel I’m not true to myself because of capitalism,” admiring those performers “who are so much more comfortable with their presentation.” Then, as if giving themself a pep talk, says of being more Out, “I can do the damn thing. It’s being true to the campy side of me.” Each performer speaks to the micro and macro of their personal experience with sexuality, race, and gender and the sense that, at least in the adult business, the personal is the public. To that end, representation matters, they say. “We need to be putting black trans women to the front,” Expensive says, “and that’s the answer to the question.”