And to your great list I would add that (although it’s related to what is in there already):

(1) we would be consciously inclusive of human sexual diversity and mindful of not alienating or inadvertently stigmatizing sexual minorities through our critique

(2) we would not speak about porn users as though they were all cisgender heterosexual men, making other users invisible

(3) we would research and discuss, but not make assumptions about, the relationships between the porn people watch and their attitudes, beliefs and sexual practices

(4) we would acknowledge that no human sexuality does, has ever, or could ever exist outside of a cultural context, and would therefore avoid grounding our arguments in assumptions about some natural, essential sexuality and, related to that

(5) we wouldn’t make the sexist assumption that women do/should only enjoy soft, loving, affectionate types of sex.

A politics here alarms me; we don’t ask, in any other genre or medium, for artists to portray edifying fantasies, and I’m nervous about the consequences of porn producers to do so. Not only does it set up a good porn/bad porn dynamic–a great boon for those seeking to narrow sexual expression–but it creates a new aesthetic space where it’s no longer enough to create the most compelling performance possible. I can only imagine the whirlwind of requirements that “good” porn producers would eventually be asked to fulfill, above and beyond merely making good film.

I welcome what you’re trying to accomplish, but I’m just too suspicious of an approach that would likely be interpreted in bad faith as an invitation to self-censorship, and worse.

P.S.: The blog is amazing. Keep it up!

Except that there’s plenty of experience that suggests that a significant number of people can’t. Quite a lot of folks mimic what they see in porn because they don’t know any better. I’ve talked with people who tried anal sex without warmup, done high-level bondage without safety knowledge, and tried to deepthroat (or tried to get a partner to deepthroat) without knowing how to do it safely. Any of those can cause discomfort or serious damage and many of these folks have said that they were just copying what they saw in porn.

It isn’t the fault of the porn industry that people are using their products as sex education. I think you & I are on the same page with that. But something needs to change, somewhere.

True, but is porn the place?

Be it fighting, driving, swordplay, or gunplay, people who wish to engage responsibly are expected to inform themselves, play safely, and, most importantly, broadly disbelieve what they see in the theaters. It’s only in porn where this expectation is allowed to lapse.

Stuntsmanship and proper gun use aren’t visible in film, either, and it’s arguable that it’s far more dangerous to use your fist or your gun like an action star than it is to use your tender bits like a movie star. Why didn’t Sylvester Stallone give a talk on gun cleaning after Rambo? Why didn’t Jackie Chan give a talk about safe punching after Rush Hour? Because the audience is expected to have good sense, to draw an immediate distinction between reality and fantasy.

Moreover, part of a fantastic narrative involves rendering mechanics invisible in service of story. Watching a gun cleaning or a fight rehearsal would make for a more realistic and responsible story, and an unwatchable one–something more fantastic than fantasy, an afterschool-special straightjacket of teachable moments.

We absolutely do need realistic, positive portrayals of sex–and firearms, and martial arts and the rest–but we needn’t staple them onto the films. Such a dumbing-down of the genre would reinforce the worst stereotypes of the porn audience as slobbering cretins: “They’re so clueless on consent they need an instructional video.”

We can watch Jackass responsibly, for heavens’ sake. We can handle porn.