Candidly Speaking - 01/04/2022

On Billie Eilish and pornography

Note: My apologies for not posting a blog last week - I was on vacation. And yes, I did notice the irony of sharing something truthful on April Fool’s Day.

Confession: I have never been convinced that Billie Eilish is the greatest thing to happen in pop music today. I have listened to some of her songs, and while I can see the appeal, it is not the kind of music I would hold up as undisputed masterworks. Nevertheless, I did have some initial respect for her, given that she composed all of her songs with her brother Finneas, instead of employing a cadre of industry-approved songwriters to craft the sure-fire top 40 hit.

But my respect for Ms. Eilish has increased substantially, when she candidly revealed her addiction to pornography:

“As a woman, I think porn is a disgrace,” she said. “I used to watch a lot of porn, to be honest. I started watching it when I was like 11. I think it really destroyed my brain and I feel incredibly devastated that I was exposed to so much porn.”

“The first few times I, you know, had sex, I was not saying no to things that were not good. It was because I thought that’s what I was supposed to be attracted to,” she said.

“I’m so angry that porn is so loved, and I’m so angry at myself for thinking that it was OK,” she continued. “Women’s bodies don’t look like that. We don’t come like that.”

The number 11 struck me as truly shocking. As a culture, we have lowered the guardrails to the point that children that young are exposed to such material. I love and embrace the free and open Internet, even more so in an era of increasing Big Tech and government control. But any one with a moral fiber should think long and hard about the consequences of such openness, especially when the victims are society’s most vulnerable.

Nevertheless, with such an influential public figure speaking out about such a taboo topic, chances are we will see a sweeping change in opinion about the harms of pornography, both to women and men.

Recently, I had a conversation with Meghan Murphy, one of Canada’s most sober-minded feminists and an outspoken critic of our porn-addled culture. Her article on pornography kicked off a change in this humble writer’s heart and mind:

We are told porn is untouchable because sex is untouchable, but what we are talking about isn’t really sex: it’s money — it’s a multi-billion dollar industry. Sex is private, personal, and an incredibly powerful, important part of the human experience. I wouldn’t give it up for anything. But should we give up the sale of female bodies for male profit and public consumption? I’d argue yes. One cannot simultaneously use the “personal and private” argument when we’re dealing with a thing that only exists as it does today because of the profit motive. It there were no profit, there will be very little pornography.

Here, I must confess one my most grievous sins: I, like many other boys going through adolescence, have been a casual viewer of pornography. I don’t consider myself addicted to the stuff, but I indulged in it the same way one would indulge in junk food or sugary treats. In other words, porn to me is junk sex. I am not going to go into details about the kinds of porn I frequent, but suffice to say, the activities depicted in these motion pictures are not the ones I would want my future intimate partner to do with me. From the age of 13 to 21, the thought has never occurred to me that women in porn are being exploited, mistreated, or leading miserable lives. I took a libertarian view when it comes to porn performers and prostitutes: that it is a legitimate occupation in a free society, and as long as it’s not harming anyone, it is not a problem for me. The reality, which I had a sobering collision course with, is that porn harms everyone, even those not consuming it.

I first had a glimpse of this revelation, around my 21st birthday, when I hear Terry Crews confessing his addiction to porn:

"I was addicted to pornography since I was 12 years old. Let me tell you. My father was addicted to alcohol and my mother was addicted to religion. So what happens is you had an addictive household. OK? We weren't allowed to play sports, we weren't allowed to watch movies."

He also revealed that he kept the addiction a secret from his wife, Rebecca, for a long time.

"You don't know how powerful you (women) are. Men get addicted to looking at pictures of you. That's how powerful a woman is. It's one of those things that took me away and it medicated me. But this is the problem. I never told anyone. I didn't tell my wife for years."

Again, we have the number 12. Assuming that Terry Crews, born in 1968, was exposed to pornography long before the ubiquity of the Internet, it is no less concerning that porn has found its way to poisoning younger and younger minds.

I have admired and looked up to Mr. Crews for a long time, way before I started watching Brooklyn 99. He embodies a kind of manliness that I aspire to achieve: one that leaves room for humor, care, and sensitivity. Hearing his confession does not diminish my fondness of him one bit - instead, it makes me admire him even more. It takes guts to reveal to the world something you feel ashamed of, and in the case of Mr. Crews, something that could have wrecked his marriage, family, and manhood.

Nevertheless, I find myself lucky that I have not reached the point where I cannot stop consuming pornography. It is not yet an addiction, only a bad habit. Ever since I reached the age of 18, I no longer find porn as enjoyable as when I first started watching it. Most of the time, I was either bored, depressed, anxious, neurotic, or severely lacking in self-confidence (sometimes, all of them at once). I can recall many times that I felt gross and violated after watching a porn clip. I could not find a healthy relationship, and my attempts at connecting with other people, especially women my age, are fraught with difficulties, drama and heartbreak. Looking back, I don’t suppose that my habit of pornography is the sole cause of that mess, but I can certainly conclude that if I had stopped consuming, chances are my relationship with the world around me would have been less adversarial.

One of my objectives this year is to rid myself of this bad habit. That means being mindful of my urges, and finding something to distract myself from falling prey to temptation. My self-confidence has increased the more I become religious - I am studying to become a converted Roman Catholic (more on that in a later blog). I am assured that God forgives those who repent, and helps those who genuinely desires redemption. In the eyes of the Lord, pornography is adultery, a cardinal sin of thought and action. But there is also a clear secular case against it: it damages the way we perceive sex and human intimacy. For men, it desensitizes desire and replace it with cravings for more and more hardcore stuff. For women, it fosters an unhealthy relationship with expectations in the bedroom. Knowing all of this now, I wish I had put a stop to my shameful pastime earlier.