Anonymous
What the Sex Industry and Church have in common
When I was a senior in college my roommate and I decided to visit the World’s Largest Adult Bookstore. Believe it or not, that’s in Nashville. I had never been to any sort of “adult” store before, so I was quite overwhelmed and intrigued and appalled that, for some people, Adult Bookstore shopping was a regular occurrence. As I walked through the front door a woman with 22 earrings dangling from various places on the left side of her cheek said “welcome, guys.” Aw, I thought, it’s just like we’re shopping at Sears, except the greeter looked like a vampire.
I was too nervous/guilty to say anything back to her. I didn’t even look at her. In fact I pretended not to hear her. I didn’t want her to remember my face and decide to wave at me if the two of us happened to run into each other at Applebees or the next time I was shopping for coffins. No Christian wants to be recognized in public as the man who frequents Satan’s Pornography Warehouse.
At the time, I was not all that experienced in the ways of filling my head with naked imagery doing things with other naked imagery. Sure, I had witnessed a couple of adult films, but on both of those occasions, I wasn’t the one who had braved sneaking into the back room of the video store and then walking up to the register and renting them. I wouldn’t have done it. It required one to be both courageous and evil on the same day. And that rarely happened for me.
As I browsed the aisles of the World’s Largest Adult Bookstore, I couldn’t help but notice the people around me. Most of them seemed to lurk around the store rather than walk. No one looked around. They hid their faces behind magazines or kept them pointed toward dark corners. It seemed everybody was wishing for the same thing, for the power to delve into their personal fetishes without being seen.
Everybody in that store other than the vampire woman would have done just about anything for the ability to be invisible and enjoy the decadence of our surroundings. To walk the aisles unseen would have made the experience ideal–to be there among the truck drivers, college students, and youth pastors as an anonymous human being.
Eventually, we got our wish–the Internet.
As the world connected online, the Internet offered people anonymity, a beautiful hiding place behind the almighty I.P. address.
In regards to online pornography, anonymous is a rather powerful tool.
In most online situations–whether it’s making comments on blogs or stalking people or checking in on old boyfriends or girlfriends or enemies, or engaging a sexual fetish of our choosing–Anonymous is a state of being that offers us the ability to “be” without the ramifications or the aftermath.
When it’s over and we’ve had our fill of whatever it is that fancies our minds and bodies, we can simply disappear and go back to our “realities.”
Christians talk a good bit about pornography and sexuality. We talk a lot about the lust part and the masturbation part and how it affects our relationships. We discuss the addictions, the guilt, and the gimmicks to help us find a path toward healing.
But it’s rare that we discuss the “anonymity” part.
Sure, it gets touched on from time to time. But I don’t think we really know or comprehend the power and lure that “being anonymous” really offers people.
And I think we need to talk about it.
Why? Because many of us find a great deal of fulfillment in being anonymous.
For some of us the ability to remain “anonymous” is the selling point to engaging porn or sexual fantasy online. Having the “thrill” of the World’s Largest Adult Bookstore in the comfort of our bedroom and getting to peruse it without fear of being seen or heard is a beautiful commodity. The “not getting caught” part is likely the only reason some of us ever get involved in looking at porn online in the first place. Most of us wouldn’t have the balls to walk into a strip club or an adult bookstore–SOMEBODY MIGHT SEE US OR RECOGNIZE US–but as “anonymous” we work up the courage to “be” and “do” anything we want online. It’s there, as an unknown and invisible presence, we get the chance to be what we believe might be “us” and experience a little short-lived “freedom.” However, “anonymity” isn’t simply about hiding. Not for all of us.
For some of us, “being anonymous” helps us find our story. Maybe it’s not our story, but it’s a story. You might be surprised by this, but not everybody engages online pornography just to “get off” or “reach climax.” Even if the “conclusion” happens after an orgasm, it doesn’t mean the journey of “getting there” was about reaching an orgasm. Some of us are looking for a story, a little excitement to either fuel our ability to live or numb us from whatever pain we’re feeling. Pornography offers an escape, and being anonymous gives us the freedom and strength to walk many paths that we wouldn’t ordinarily walk, and sometimes we find a familiar thread of a “story” that we chase after. The truth is, some of us spend hours engaging the “story.” And it’s not for the orgasm.
For some of us, “being anonymous” fuels our imaginations. While in the real world, we’re overweight and average with a small penis. In the online world, we are “SexyMan615.” He’s handsome with muscles and hung like a donkey. With this new identity we are able to go online and meet “Luscious36D,” a flat-chested middle-aged woman from Nebraska who hasn’t been on a date in years. But in our imaginations, she’s beautiful and he says the all the right things.
For some of us, “being anonymous” makes us feel at home. In the “real world” our sexual fantasies often alienate us. To mention aloud what we like and don’t like often brings embarrassment or judgment . But online, we learn that we’re really not that strange after all. We feel normal when find that seemingly lots of people are into the same fantasies that we are. And oddly, we feel less like an outsider when we’re alone in our homes chatting with people who like the same things we do or watching people engage in the same sexual activity that we want to engage. But we don’t know these people. And they don’t know us. And we like it that way.
For some of us, “being anonymous” helps us find a community. Some of us live two different lives, the one we live in the “real world” and the one live “online.” The people we “know” or “meet” in our online world often know more about us than our friends and family know. Sexual fantasy or fetishes or “issues” often create a strong bond between people. Though we may not know each other’s first names, often we feel a kinship to the “anonymous stories” of the people we meet. Whether we want to admit it or not, some of us think of it as a part of our community.
Pursuing our sexual fantasies online as anonymous definitely has its benefits: A safe place. Story. Fuel for our imaginations. Home. Community. (And a lot more.) Today’s sex industry “sells” far more than simply naked people doing things with other naked people. It sells a way of life.
And in a way, it sells the same exact things that churches sell. Sure, they do it differently. And sometimes they do it better.
“But wait, that’s not fair; the fulfillment a person finds online is plastic and fake,” some of you might argue.
And if that’s you’re argument, I certainly understand where you’re coming from. But in a lot of ways, the argument only makes the comparison stronger.
Because in reality, the porn industry has more in common with the church than some might realize.
Not only do they sell a lot of the same ideas, many of us who go to church every Sunday, do so as anonymous people. Sure, church members know our names and faces and certain parts of our stories, but they don’t really know us. We fear what would happen if they really knew us.
So parts of our lives remain anonymous, invisible to the outside world. And many of us, have become so used to hiding behind “fake smiles” and “I.P. address” that we’re okay with being anonymous. Frankly, we prefer it.
So I ask, are you living anonymously?