Truth Behind the Fantasy of Porn

by Shelley Lubben

  The truth is there is no fantasy in porn. It’s all an illusion. A closer look into the hardcore scenes of a porn star’s life will show you an act the porn industry doesn’t want you to see. The real truth is we porn actresses want to end the shame and trauma of our box office lives but we can’t do it alone. We need you men to fight for our freedom and give us back our honor. We need you to hold us in your strong arms while we sob tears over our deep wounds and begin to heal. We want you to throw out our movies and help piece together the shattered fragments of our lives. We need you to pray for us so God will hear and repair our ruined lives.

  Don’t believe the big top fantasy. Porn is nothing more than fake sex, bruises and lies on video. Trust me, I know.

  II

  Admit One

  Send in the Clowns

  Chapter Two

  My porn name was Roxy and I performed my circus tricks in about 30 hardcore movies between 1993 and 1994. From anals to facials to gangbangs and interracials, there was nothing I wouldn’t do to prove to the world that I would become the next hottest porn star sensation. I could juggle and ball-spin with the best of them.

  I began my porn training at nine years old when I was sexually abused by a female classmate and her teenage brother in a swimming pool. I was a normal kid who did culturally normal things like play with Barbie dolls and watch Sesame Street when out of the blue my Ken doll decided to take the fantasy too far and pull down his trunks and violate Barbie in the deep end. I became a damaged “dirty” little girl overnight.

  Damaged little girls are exactly what the porn industry preys upon and depends upon. It is estimated that 90% of porn performers are sexual abuse survivors and the average age of a porn actress is 22.8 years old.16 17 I repeat, damaged little girls. According to former porn actress April Garris, counselor to ex porn stars, “in most every single case, there is some background of childhood sexual abuse or neglect.”18

  Porn queen Jenna Jameson, who is the most downloaded porn star on the Internet, was also a damaged little girl before entering porn. In Jameson’s autobiography she describes the painful neglect and drug use of her father, two teenage rapes, drug addictions, and numerous affairs with men and women. Jenna claims her rapes had nothing to do with her choice for a porn career.19 She has what I like to term the classic porn star background.

  The classic porn star background (CPSB) is a realistic compilation of a porn star’s past and current traumatic experiences which include childhood sexual abuse, exposure to pornographic material, parental neglect, physical abuse, verbal abuse, family dysfunction, substance abuse, rape, and sexual revictimization. The cumulative effect of all of these negative experiences causes victims to unconsciously develop powerful self-protection systems known as defense mechanisms.

  Defense Mechanism

  Definition:

  Self-protection system designed to lessen or repress certain thoughts, feelings or memories from entering the conscious mind.

  Top 10 PORN STAR Defense Mechanisms

  (1) Acting out - performing an extreme behavior in order to express thoughts or feelings the person feels incapable of otherwise expressing.

  (2) Denial - refusing to acknowledge some painful aspect of external reality or subjective experience that would be apparent to others.

  (3) Displacement - taking out frustrations, feelings and impulses on people or objects that are less threatening. For example, violence against women by pornographers who feel anger toward their mothers.

  (4) Fantasy - using daydreaming or imagination to escape from reality into a fictitious world of success or pleasure.

  (5) Humor - pointing out the funny or ironic aspects of a situation in order to deal with it. For example, making jokes about one’s sexually transmitted diseases.

  (6) Idealization - attributing exaggerated positive qualities to others such as thinking highly of a “friendly” pornographer.

  (7) Omnipotence - feeling or acting as if he or she possesses special powers or abilities and is superior to others.

  (8) Projection - denying one’s own unpleasant traits, behaviors, or feelings by attributing them to someone else. For example, accusing Shelley Lubben of being an attention whore.

  (9) Rationalization - explaining an unacceptable behavior or feeling in a rational or logical manner, avoiding the true reasons for the behavior. For example, a porn star who is turned down for a job might rationalize by saying the producer prefers to shoot ugly girls anyways.

  (10) Repression - The unconscious exclusion of painful impulses, desires, or fears from the conscious mind. Often involving sexual or aggressive urges or painful childhood memories, these unwanted mental contents are pushed into the unconscious mind.

  In carny terms, porn stars are trained seals and hard acts to follow. We are trapeze artists, magicians, clowns, acrobats, contortionists and tight-rope walkers. We are the world’s greatest performers and practiced liars. When we were sexually abused as children we were forced to believe that we were good for only one thing. Sex. We were afraid to tell so we never had a choice to appeal or to heal from our sexual wounds and neglect, so we felt discarded and turned into angry revengeful little girls acting out our pain to get attention.

  But our parents wouldn’t pay attention. Churches wouldn’t pay attention nor did our schools pay any attention. In fact, nobody paid attention to the freaks of nature we had morphed into. Surely our deformities were noticeable. We were bed wetters, sexual deviants, peculiar rebels who plucked out their eyelashes and played with their genitals. We were molesters of other children and even scolded for it. Our childhood games consisted of hide and seek my private parts and truth and dare you to show me yours and I’ll show you mine. Our freak show was on center stage for our parents and the entire world to see. But nobody paid attention. Nobody ever asked us what happened and we were left to ourselves in tears and shame to survive and train for the only thing we believed we were good for: filthy dirty sex.

  As we entered our teenage years we discovered that our sexuality could be used as a tool to gain back control and get even with society for ignoring us for so long. We followed older rebellious role models like Madonna and expressed ourselves in skimpy skirts and tight little shirts. It made perfect sense to us, since we knew that we’d gain the same sick admiration from boys and older males that she received from the world. We manipulated our classmates with sensual conduct and sexual favors and grew in superior knowledge of the great power we possessed.

  When we entered our adult years we became sexual spectacles and demanded higher payment in the form of attention and cash as compensation for the neglect and sexual abuse that we suffered as children. I like to call it porn star currency. We will lie to get it. We will steal to get it. We will prostitute ourselves and risk our lives to get it. Porn stars can juggle HIV, Gonorrhea and Chlamydia while we fearlessly reinfect ourselves with even more STD’s. We can do amazing feats with our minds and bodies that would terrify most ordinary people. We can walk a thin line of death and life at great heights without any fear of falling. With the help of drugs and alcohol our skills are enhanced to tolerate huge amounts of physical, mental and emotional pain. Our infected bodies are covered with sores and traces of bruises hidden beneath our daring and flaring images. We are pornographic superstars performing in the world’s greatest freak show at a website near you!

  Heroic as the “supers” may appear many porn stars have tragically and sadly plunged into their untimely deaths. Out of about 1,500 performers between 2007 and 2010, 34 people that we know of died from AIDS, suicide, drugs and homicide. 17 more performers died prematurely from medical causes to include lung disease, heart failure and cancer.20, 21 That is a total of 51 premature deaths. No other industry has these kinds of statistics, not even the music industry which is at least 10 times bigger than the porn industry.

  In 2009, the music industry released 97,751 albums compared to only 13,056 (including amateur) total porn titles released.22, 23 Between 2007 and 2009 ther
e were 9 drug related deaths and 2 suicides among singers and musicians in an industry of 12,765 recording companies compared to 10 drug related deaths and 8 suicides in an industry of only about 900 porn companies.24, 25, 26, 27 That is one death for every 1,160 recording companies versus one death for every 50 porn companies. It doesn’t take a math genius to understand that the porn industry is drastically smaller than the music industry and yet has higher rates of drug-related deaths and suicides. I repeat, no other industry destroys more people than the porn industry!

  Furthermore, when the deaths of 129 porn stars over a period of roughly 20 years were analyzed it was discovered that the average life expectancy of a porn star is only 37.43 years whereas the average life expectancy of an American is 78.1 years.28 As recently as June, 2010, male porn star Stephen Hill killed a coworker and injured two others in a sword attack at a porn studio in Van Nuys, California. The victim was 30-year-old male porn actor Herbert Wong. The sad and tragic events don’t end there. A police manhunt ensued and Stephen was tracked down at his Chatsworth home. The 34-year-old porn star died after falling from a cliff after a standoff with the Los Angeles Police Department SWAT team. He was heard to have said shortly before his death, “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

  The porn industry was never supposed to happen this way. But 1 out of 4 Americans made it happen. While women and men in porn destroyed themselves with drugs, alcohol and suicide we sat idly by at our computers with “popcorn” in one hand and our mouse in the other greedily clicking away at their lives. May God forgive our evil.

  Sad and painted face

  who makes the masses roar

  Lions, seals and trapeze thrills

  while you, the sad faced whore

  There must be something more

  than death and circus gore

  What are you dying for?

  by Shelley Lubben

  Admit One

  act II

  Meet Shelley #1

  III

  Admit One

  Born to be bad

  Chapter Three

  Born Shelley Lynn Moore on May 18, 1968 in Pasadena, California, I come from a long line of Methodist preachers on my mother’s side and Catholic Italians on my father’s side. My father and mother were opposites in nature and upbringing but very much in love and my sister and brother were born a couple of years after me. I am the eldest and only brunette child with green eyes a.k.a. the WOP. My mother called me her WOP (without papers) because I looked like a little grape-smasher.

  I grew up in a middle class home in Temple City, California, where my family regularly attended a good church in Alhambra. That’s where I met the love of my life, Jesus. Every Sunday my teacher told me marvelous stories about Jesus and how He had compassion and healed thousands of sick people. Oh how I loved Jesus! My favorite part of the class was when my Sunday School teacher took out her brown ukulele and played the most beautiful music. With my head titled back and my eyes tightly shut I sang my little heart out to Jesus, “Oh how I love Jesus. Oh how I love Jesuuus.” Everything just disappeared. It was Jesus and I in our own special place.

  “Oh how I love Je-SUUUS,” I bursted again.

  But oh how I hated when I saw my parents standing at the door and it was time for Sunday School to end. I just wanted to listen to my Sunday School teacher tell me more Bible stories while I munched on Ritz crackers.

  In 1977, our family moved away from my happy Christian life to a small fairly upscale town called Glendora, or as I used to call it, Glenboring. In a town filled with orange groves and a population of about 20,000 people there wasn’t much to do except have an orange fight. I was ready for a fight too. I was pretty angry that we had to leave the only friends and family I had ever known and loved. Sunday School and Ritz crackers were my life!

  By then my little brother was born and completely attached to my mother’s breast. So my sister and I were pretty much left to ourselves playing with our Barbie dolls and watching hours and hours of television. My mother always said television was the best babysitter. Well, with a babysitter like that I learned a lot! As a kid, I learned more about sex from shows like “Three’s Company” and “Love American Style” than I did anywhere else. With a weekly lineup of comedies about increased sex drive who needed puberty?

  And then there was the spin-off to “Love American Style”, a show called “Happy Days,” where I really learned the facts of life. With a bag of Fritos in my lap and my face glued to the TV set I got to watch Fonzie make out with chicks at Inspiration Point. Could TV get any hotter than this for a nine-year-old? Or how about when our family gathered around to watch “All in the Family”, a show that had to have a disclaimer the first time it aired. Thanks to Archie Bunker my family listened to racial slurs for years. “All In The Family” also taught me about politics, swingers, women’s rights, and homosexuality. Oh yeah, I learned a lot from television.

  Television wasn’t my only teacher. I also learned a lot from the teenage boy and his sister who sexually molested me when I was nine years old. It conveniently happened in my friend’s swimming pool when no parents were around. There we were all alone - me, my friend and her very cute older brother.

  How I was talked into skinny dipping by my new friend I don’t have a clue but I remember thinking that if I didn’t do it, the whole school was going to find out and call me a chicken. I reluctantly peeled off my bathing suit and quickly stepped into the pool to cover up my naked body. The only memories I have after that is of her teenage brother walking over to the edge of the pool where his sister and I were swimming and he started teasing us. His sister splashed water back at him and told him to go away but he just laughed and pulled his pants down and jumped in. I ripped my head away in embarrassment and swam rapidly to the other side of the pool in hopes my bathing suit was nearby. When I looked back to see where they were I saw both of them underwater and heading straight for me.

  The next thing I felt was indescribable. I saw her brother’s golden head beneath the water coming toward me near the surface. When his head came up for air our eyes met and I just stared into his handsome face with awe. No older boy had ever been this close to me. I could feel his warm breath on my face while I stood there frozen staring into his big blue eyes. He reached his hand over and started touching me between my legs. A strange tingly feeling took over my whole body and I couldn’t move or breathe.

  A hard poke against my stomach brought me back to reality and I thought it must have been his thumb.

  “That feels really big,” I remember thinking. I looked down and saw his “thing” and my mouth fell open. That’s when I blanked out.

  Fear abruptly woke me up out of my shock and thoughts of getting into trouble raced through my mind.

  What will my mother do if she finds out? Did anybody see us? What if the kids at school find out?

  A sick feeling washed over me.

  I shoved him away with all of my might and swam as fast as I could to the other end of the pool where my bathing suit was. Pulling myself up out of the water over the edge, I grabbed my suit and frantically put it back on while searching for the nearest towel.

  “Towel, towel, where’s a towel?” I asked myself as I anxiously looked around. I spotted a blue towel and threw it around my shoulders and ran out of the gate into the house at full throttle.

  I locked myself in the bathroom while I listened to my friend yell and pound on the door for about thirty minutes.

  “Come out of there, Shelley! My brother didn’t really mean it.”

  Yeah, right.

  Wiping the tears away I finally worked up enough nerve to come out of the bathroom. I slipped into her bedroom where the guest bed was and covered myself up to my neck with the bed sheets. Nobody was going to put their hands on me again. I tried to keep my eyes open all night but I was so traumatized that I fell asleep almost right away.

  Awakened by a dark shadowy figure hovering over me I gasped, “What is that???”

 
I opened my eyes to find long blonde hair dangling in my face. It was too dark to see much but I felt something weird rubbing against my thighs. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and shockingly I saw my friend on top of me moving her hips around while making moaning sounds. I forcefully pushed my friend off of me and curled up on the edge of the bed into a sobbing ball. I just wanted to go home.

  The rest of the night I laid there in shock, staring into the still darkness while creepy voices whispered into my head, “You’re a bad dirty girl.”

  I was too young to understand all that had transpired that day, but the dirty and shameful seeds that were planted deep within my being that night would continue to grow over the next seventeen years of my life. Watered by neglect and verbal abuse the small satanic seeds that were embedded in my soul would gradually mature into an adult world of fully-grown fruits of wickedness.

  And then I could be really bad.

  IV

  Admit One

  Raising Hell

  Chapter Four

  I swore up and down to the cop I only drank one beer but he still made me get out of my car and walk the stupid line. I slapped my hand down on the dashboard and kicked my car door open with my six inch red stilettos. That pig definitely picked the wrong girl to mess with. Not only could I walk the line under the influence of a fifth of Jack Daniels but I could recite the entire alphabet backwards faster than any human being alive.

  “ZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA.”