LOS ANGELES—Yesterday, Ravishly.com, a place for "women who crave killer content," asked the seminal question, “Where's All The Good Porn For Women?” The article by Nikki Gloudeman, whom we took to task last month in response to her lament about there being no good porn for women, has revisited the topic with new eyes, literally, courtesy, she writes, “of Jacky St. James, one of those women on the frontlines of female-oriented adult film production,” who out of the blue had sent Gloudeman a box of porn DVDs—ones she suspected the writer would appreciate.
“I immediately curled up on the couch to watch a rom-com sex romp called The Friend Zone,” she adds. “And, well ... it was good. Like, really good. It had legitimate production values. The acting ranged from just fine to truly impressive. The script was funnier than most mainstream rom-coms in theaters today (Hollywood producers, take note). And ... what's this? Is that a sex scene involving people who actually seem to care about one another? Is that woman being respected as she's being pleasured? Is that a condom I see?
“The experience was, in a word, a revelation, satisfying in every desired way,” she continues. “After The Friend Zone, I dove in to the erotica of FrolicMe, featuring gorgeously rendered shots of men and women in the throes of passion, including one video of a woman, bathed in warm lighting, pleasuring herself beside the window of her tranquil country home.”
Reborn, so to speak, she writes that she “needed to share, so I reached out to four of the women who led me to this sexual awakening, and probed them on porn's problems and potential, their own sexual journeys, and the intersection of feminism and adult entertainment.”
Those women were the aforementioned St. James, Sssh.com’s Angie Rowntree, Anna Frolicma from Frolicme, and Erica Lust from Erica Lust Films, all of whom responded to Gloudeman's appeal for understanding about her previous ignorance of the existence of their work—or them, presumably—with undestanding and patience, something we lacked in our earlier coverage.
Gloudeman goes on asks them a handful of questions that range from “What makes the adult content you produce unique? What's your mission with it?” to “Some argue that the adult film industry is inherently at odds with the ideals of feminism. What's your response to this?” to “Do you think there's a problem with the word ‘porn’ itself? Do you prefer ‘adult films’? ‘Erotica’? Something else?”
Making the most out of her own porn awakening. and with space on the page to spare, Gloudeman lets her subjects answer to their hearts’ content, which they do, offering readers valuable insights into these accomplished creators who happen to be women who made the choice to work in porn.
