I watched porn when I was 9-years-old and I survived. My first experience of sex was watching an Indian film called Kama Sutra. I remember it so vividly because it was where I first tried to reiterate foreign vocals. I mouthed the language as I sat with my legs crossed, mouth slightly tilted opened. ‘Kaaaah-Maaaah-Sou-Traaah’. I tousled with this foreign word before carefully grasping what it all actually was.
My sister and I had awoken to my dad’s note on the table telling us he’d be right back as he had to sort some things out at the bank. My parents had long been divorced and we’d visit my dad every three and a half weeks in Germany. My sister and I spent our breaks roaming around his sleek, white second floor apartment. Nothing like our home back in Holland where we fought off cockroaches and landlords with bitter curse words and bleach. Here, in my dad’s house, he had the blackest, shiniest and widest TV I’d ever seen. His ceilings were high with flirty lights falling from them and glass doors with posh nubs. Carpets were a slate grey color and his white leather sofas, in all their reverence, looked completely undisturbed. Though I wished for a life as bleached and sharp as this, my father’s place was never mine. It was all ‘child proof’, no evidence that he had children at all.
The cleanliness of his life, in my mind, contradicted the triple X-rated videos I found on top of his wardrobe the morning he left my sister and I to visit the bank. We’d always been told not to go certain places in the flat, or not to touch things, swallow things, drink things, sniff things, yada yada yada. So when my father had left us to our own devices (which he never did), I embarked on a mission to find secrets in the house, to go places where I wasn’t allowed and eat the things of which I was forbidden. Sure enough, after exhausting the house looking for treasures, we found nothing of worth. The secrets in this house were as lifeless as its teller. When we became bored of the searching, we decided to watch my favorite film at the time, ‘Stand By Me’. Balancing on my sisters back, I reached out on top of his wardrobe to grab the same old cassette tape that my dad would put on when he needed us to shush. Instead of finding one cassette tape, my hand felt dozens upon dozens of tapes. With one swoop of my arm, I shoved all the cassette tapes to the floor, jumped off my sister’s back and watched.
Both our eyes widened in disbelief, mouths agape and head’s crooked. Neither of us knew what ‘Cunt F#$%’ meant or who the ‘Dominatrixxx Pussy Queens’ were or why their labias stretched the way they did. Before this moment we’d never seen the things that were bowing before our eyes, but we both knew it was bad. Yet I was curious, and against my little sister’s innocent protests to put them back, I remember being intrigued and wanting to see more. I pushed the cassette tape in, and within minutes we were hiding under the blankets, occasionally peering through tiny holes to watch the sex take place. The first video we watched was an Indian film called Kama Sutra, the guy had forced himself upon the woman and her face showed terror, but also enjoyment. The second followed the same theme of rough sex and torture. It was from then on that I formed my idea of sex: complete pain and submission to men. Watching porn for years and years after this first event was exhilarating, but I never once considered that it was something that normal people partook in, much less people like me. I was under the impression that black people never even had sex! Kissing is what I saw the white man do. However as I further explored the porn industry, I discovered all kinds of races engaging in this thing that I thought to be taboo. As I grew into my early to mid teens, I became more and more aware of what I thought might be expected of me when I have a partner.
Dang, my nipples don’t look like that!
But how is she lifting her leg up so high though?
Am I expected to do the splits during sex?
Okay I’m going to be in pain during and after sex, but it’s okay as long as he’s enjoying it.
Does it have to be completely bald down there?
Why is his penis so huge?
How long are they going to be doing that?
Porn created a weird view of myself because I never turned hyper-sexual or resentful. I just was. In fact I became insensitive to 12 inch penis’, hairless vaginas, basketball breasts and general nudeness. For me, it just was. So at the age when most of my peers were squirming at sex education, laughing at penis’, vaginas and making buttonhole jokes, I was over it all and was prepared to wait until it was my turn. Sex was overrated and it looked like it hurt. So I was only going to allow someone that loved me to hurt me. When I became of age, I went to porn shops, discussed sex with ease and comfort. This wild exploration of sex I’m sure isn’t a healthy one, but it’s my experience and one that I’m not ashamed of anymore. Though I quit watching porn a long time ago (specifically when I converted to Christianity), my infatuation of the body as a sexual vessel hasn’t decreased. I see so much beauty in the practice, and I love discussing it. There’s a comfort with my sexuality that I, of course would never have had being the 9 year-old me. My intention is not for it to seem like I simply “got over it”, or to encourage anyone to indulge in porn, but more so that it is an addiction that I never thought I’d be able to conquer, but did eventually. We can conquer anything we put our mind to right? Take it from the kid who watched porn at 9 and survived.
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Sherida is a London based Graphic Designer and lifestyle blogger. Amongst other things she a collector of books, magazines, and print samples due to her slightly obsessive zeal for printed typography and swiss design. When she’s not scrutinising someone’s type treatment, she writes short stories with wit and unadulterated truths. | Twitter + Blog + Port
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