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It’s a rare ‘About the Author’ that begins “Stoya has been a pornographer since 2006 and a writer since 2012,” but Philosophy, Pussycats and Porn is a rare volume. It’s an unconventional collection of essay and remembrances from a woman who has lived an unconventional life, and it’s a pleasure to read.
Stoya is the porn actress who kicked #MeToo into high gear in the adult entertainment industry when she came forward about having been raped by ex-boyfriend and porn superstar James Deen. It was a landmark moment as the industry rallied around her, believing the accusations made by a woman despite the popularity of the man involved. But Stoya has never been defined by any one label, whether as a victim, a pornographic actress and producer, an entrepreneur, or a sex workers’ rights activist. She’s also a writer, with credits as diverse as The New York Times, Vice, Playboy, The Guardian and Nylon. Philosophy, Pussycats and Porn is her first book.
It turns out the stage name ‘Stoya’ comes from a diminutive of her grandmother’s name, and it took a while to come out. “My grandmother,” Stoya writes, “is a very smart woman, and I’d been dodging the question of what I did for a living for at least three professionally naked years.” The chapter “Noooooooodie Girl” elaborates. I won’t spoil the ending, but it’s a treat.
I don’t know what I expected, but I doubt this book will be anything you’ll expect. There’s a directness in how Stoya discusses sex which makes sense given her professional background, but it’s still wonderfully surprising when a woman is so frank about what gives her pleasure and how she’s navigated being made into a symbol. As she notes in her introduction,
“People frequently see me as a two-dimensional representation, and twist my timeline to suit the narrative they have in their heads. They project their shame or their need for inspiration onto me. Sometimes with a disconcerting amount of hatred or worship in their eyes. It’s dehumanizing. It’s part of the job.”
Pornography can be contentious for feminists, and the discourse that positions all sex-workers as victims is prevalent. Even the Irish Feminist Network subscribes to the ideology. Stoya, despite having been raped, defies the notion of her victimhood and engages critically with the life she’s chosen, from gangbangs to modelling for Fleshlight. It’s an insightful read.
You can grab a copy at Amazon (full disclosure: that’s an affiliate link) or directly from the publisher, but I recommend you pick it up. In her own words: “Blood, sweat, and ink indeed. Long live the filth.” (p. 69)
