Is he laughing? Is he crying? I think he is both laughing and crying because that’s how he survived all the way through until this moment I am taking in with deep breaths and bitterness. He tells me stories from his childhood: streets, tears, blood, bruises, skin colour, screams, fear, violence.
He tells me about the first time his only choice to get out of fear and abuse was to respond with violence himself. He tells me about his family. He tells me about how his mother told him that he had to be more careful because of the colour of his skin. He learned that very quickly. He had to.
He told me about the police stopping him for no reason, or pointing a gun first and asking the questions later...
I’ve only seen people talk about this in films but I’ve stopped feeling like films are not real a long time ago because the amount of pain I had to take in order to create a story is really real and really tangible. But with him here in front of me, flesh and bones, I feel those horror stories with my blood which is not different from his own.
I wish there was something I could do but I then realise that I am here, and we are together, and I am listening, I am taking what I can under my skin. I am doing something because I am learning that there is a reality I never had to face. I had a fucked up life but not because I am black; his life was hard, and it was made harder solely because of the colour of his skin.
I realised that I could empathise more than what I thought. I am white and I am benefiting from a system of white privilege but I am also queer, non binary, and I have a vagina. I leave my bed every morning knowing that at some point in the day I’ll face abuse, bullying, judgement, neglect or oppression, and something or someone that will push my existence away because of who I am.
I also have to face that in the eyes of the white patriarchy (that includes men and women), I don't have the full right to decide what I can do or not do with my own body. Just the fact that I have a vagina automatically takes that right away from me. I have been bullied or neglected because of my gender, because of my sexual orientation and my freedom of choice to sexualise my body because I am also a sex worker and erotic artist. And there is just no escape.
I remember how traumatic the first kiss with another vulva owner was because of how the society perceived us. I’ve been raped, both openly and deceptively, many times and by people of different genders, and I was left feeling guilty about it because that’s what a vagina owner deserves.
You can be all of those things, you can go through all of those traumatic experiences, and on top of that you have to deal with the society persecuting you because of the colour of your skin. I didn’t have to deal with that factor, and that’s part of what makes white privilege.
I know how it feels like to be punished for just being who you are, and I feel my blood boiling under my skin when he talks about the crimes against his.
But we’ve cried enough. It’s time to act.
So this is what I have been doing and will keep pushing forward to make a difference in this fucked up society. I use inclusive language and when I make casting briefings for my porn films, if I need a POC for a role in my film, I explain what my reasons are, and contextually why the colour of the skin matters in the first place. I make sure I am not fetishizing an ethnicity and terms like “interracial” or “asian beauty” are banned from my porn vocabulary, and I only use them as an example of what is not ok to say. It sounds very obvious to me but I know it’s not the same for many of you out there. Take some time to think if you don’t want to be a waste of oxygen. Thank you.
I remember once observing how the light reflected on Hoss’ skin and I wanted to tell him how beautiful he was, and yet I paused and I had to talk this through with him. He said that it was nice to be considered beautiful based on some physical characteristics. But you see, I constantly ask myself if I am doing the right thing or if I am somehow a perpetuator of racism even if it’s not an active intention of mine.
As an artist, I sometimes observe someone’s skin and I think about how it would look like on a photo or in a film, I do that all the time, and colour really doesn’t matter in the human form, it becomes its own entity in a pure artistic way; I want to be able to express that freely but I am glad I had doubts and I questioned my ethics because I don’t think that art can justify everything.
I like to think of myself as an open minded person willing to learn, I definitely want to evolve to infinity; otherwise, what’s the point of existing if I can’t be the best version of myself at all times, or at least try?
I want to lie in the sun with Hoss and look at our skin and think of beauty, not of how brutal society has been to him because his skin colour is not like mine. I want this horror game to end but it is not possible yet and that’s why I am here writing to you, my dear reader, to make you think, for us to feel uncomfortable or comforted together, to protect those who need us, to stand up for what is right, to be the best versions of ourselves.
I want to treat every human being with kindness and respect, I want us to be equal, but the society shows that we are not, and that’s why I am writing and protesting and pushing forward in every way I can.
We have to acknowledge that people of colour are treated differently so that they can be treated equally and elevated to the HUMAN standards that white people take for granted. Black lives matter, not more than mine or yours, they just fucking matter and we have to say it out loud so that the filthy white privilege can hear it too from the bottom they can dig no more, there is nowhere lower to go.
“I believe there is only one race – the human race.” – Rosa Parks
