V2G y la degradación de la batería

This issue of objectivity is a concern in any research project in the social sciences, especially so in the field of pornography studies, where ideology and bias appear to loom large in areas such as definitions of pornography, definitions of consent, agency, violence, and discussions on the experiences of performers. McElroy argues that anti-pornography feminists ‘view the world through the lens of ideology.’’ and offers examples to support her claim such as:

Pornography is called ''genocide''; Susan Brownmiller describes it as ''the undiluted essence of anti-female propaganda''; Judith Bat-Ada compares Hugh Hefner to Hitler;

Andrea Dworkin's book on pornography begins by claiming ''men love death... men especially love murder’’ (1991, p.43).

These examples do not appear to make any claims of objectivity. This lack of objectivity has also been noted by Gilman who states:

Pornography seems to encourage the worst intellectual qualities in nearly everyone who writes about it. This is doubtless because it's extremely difficult to maintain a disinterested, reflective attitude towards imaginative work whose chief, indeed only, purpose is to cause sexual excitation (Gilman 1979).

Indeed, activists such as Jensen have noted that they have experienced arousal and shame when watching pornography, and he further admits to crying after visits to the AVNs, while making statements such as ‘If I look at another of these images I will die’ (2010, pp.107-110).

Others such as Dines have stated that they are not objective: ‘It is impossible to do the work I do and not be deeply affected. I am affected as a mother, a feminist, a teacher, and an activist.

(2010, p.xiii). This overt admission of bias is important in a field where bias can be substituted for truth. Others such as McKee who does not adopt an anti-pornography approach has been subject to criticism for admitting that he has watched pornography for pleasure (Pringle, 2011).

This implies that any admission of pleasure to be experienced from watching pornography is

to be dismissed, and thus the research produced is dismissed. This hierarchy of attitudes is discussed further in Chapter Four.

Williams addresses this issue of objectivity, in asking ‘what kind of attitude should be struck towards such a classically ‘’bad object’’?’ (1989, p.x), and argues that objectivity is not possible:

‘It is utterly hopeless to be neutral towards so controversial and physically ‘’moving’’ a topic.

Yet to be moved by pornography is not to be uncritical’ (1989, p.xi). This is an important distinction, and one that should be situated in context- how do researchers in other fields such as Hollywood film studies express their personal approach to the content they research?

Williams admits early difficulties with the issue of admitting any pleasure she experienced in watching pornography, or even admitting she watched it personally, a topic still relevant in current pornography studies:

For even though I know that the slightest admission that not every image of every film was absolutely disgusting to me may render my insights worthless to many women. I also know that not to admit some enjoyment is to perpetuate an equally invidious double standard that still insists that the nonsexual woman is the credible,

‘good’’ woman. Clearly, it is difficult to strike a proper attitude toward pornography (1989, p.xvii).

Williams’ writing here points to a very real problem- how much of oneself does one reveal in research, and how is this revelation treated? This is an issue that academics who are also sex workers have faced. Some such as Christina Parreira have been open about working as a sex worker while completing a PhD. Parriera outlines the benefits of this: ‘I felt comfortable asking other workers questions of an intimate and personal nature because of my status as a fellow worker (Berlatsky, 2017). Parriera thus enjoyed a more equal relationship with her interviewees, where both researcher and interview occupy insider status, rather than an outsider-insider relationship that can often take the form of a subject-object relationship.

Parriera believes inclusion in the research process is critical for ethical research:

There’s the saying, ‘’nothing about us without us," she says. "I firmly believe this.

If the research is about us, we should be involved in the process in some way; our voices need to be included’’ (Berlatsky, 2017).

In light of a research history that has traditionally not centred the sex worker/ performers’ voice, Parrieras’ words are grounded in a very real exclusion in feminist discourse. Moving forward to contemporary research on pornography, it is essential for ethical research that the performer is to be included as the author of their own experiences, and that exclusionary research cannot be held up in academia as ethical or methodologically sound.

Another open sex worker who conducted academic research is Tara Burns, who explained how her work led to easier access to her target population:

I didn't interview people I knew very well ... but they referred interview participants to me and those people were more willing to speak with me than they might have been with someone who was a total outsider.[...]So you could say that I had special access to what's traditionally considered a hidden population (Berlatsky, 2017).

Burns and Parriera thus highlight the benefits of being open about sex work experiences, and the advantages of participatory research epistemological approaches. Their inclusion in analysis allows access to expert status, which is explored in Chapter Four. But this is not risk free. Some former or current sex workers who are found out report being fired from their teaching jobs (Lubin and Dean, 2016; Petro, 2012). Juniper Fitz argues that while sex workers and academics occupy precarious positions, when a person is a sex worker and an academic, this presents its own challenges:

Not only do sex workers navigate two extreme identities, we must also work harder at convincing academic colleagues of our intellectual rigor and of the

seriousness of our research (especially if we happen to also focus our research on gender and sexuality) (2015).

This risk of negative repercussions for those with knowledge gained from lived experienced points to a belief in academia that theories on sex work are best when written by those with no direct experience. Those who do have direct experience can be marginalised and experience risks that non sex-working academics do not. This has implications for access to legitimacy, which is discussed further in Chapter Four. Some new approaches to academic transparently include the researcher's personal experiences, in what Nash and Bradley (2011) call ‘me-research’ where self-narratives are included in research. This has positive implications for levels of transparency, reflexivity, objectivity and ethics in the research process, and certainly could be incorporated into pornography research. Queering the research process in such a way may create more space for additional narratives to be heard, and to be heard without stigmatisation like Burns (2017), Fitz (2015), Parriera (2017), and Williams (1989) outline above.

When it comes to objectivity in social science research, especially in pornography studies, it is important to examine how power operates, and how the ‘truth’ and validity of a study is perceived according to one's own biases. This can be seen in definitions used in a study, and the validity afforded to language such as ‘sex worker’ or ‘prostituted woman’, and which groups use or reject these terms. This topic is discussed further in Chapter Four. Finding neutral language can be challenging, as well as finding neutral starting points in research. As Little states, within social science this may be an impossible quest:

There are no pure "facts," but only facts as couched in one conceptual system or another. There are no pure observations, but rather observations couched in a theory-laden vocabulary. Theories bring with them their own empirical criteria, which bias the findings in support of them (Little, 1993, p.364).

Therefore, this thesis does not endeavour to make universalistic claims. It recognises that the intention of the researcher is to provide an interpretation of performers’ experiences and their treatment in feminist discussions on pornography, with performers who may or may not be in the industry when this project is finished. It is not claiming to generalise to all performers;

indeed, generalisations of studies with small sample sizes has proved problematic in uncovering truths about pornography and how it is spoken about. This research does not claim to speak to the realities for the majority of performers, as to over-generalise is a logical fallacy and results in simplification. Instead, it will provide a nuanced approach to a small number of performers. In an industry that experiences huge turnover and rapid changes in production methods, it is unrealistic to argue for a small scale study to be held up to contain the singular truth about the industry. This nuanced approach needs to be incorporated into porn studies in general in order to improve the quality of research in the field.

3.4. Methods

The method of investigation chosen was semi structured interviews. This method was chosen for several reasons.