Beads of sweat would predictably spread across my back as I swallowed the requisite lump in my throat.
“My dad is in commercial real estate,” I'd half-lie, not wanting to endure the stunned silence -- nor the inevitably harsh judgments -- if I told the entire truth.
Growing pains... and Deepthroat
The truth was, my father was also a pornographer. He’d been arrested and prosecuted in ’74 on obscenity charges for distributing the porn classic Deep Throat – hardly a crime, in many people’s eyes… but then, this is now and that was then.
Embracing that family history has evolved for me. But even as I grew to be proud of my father’s resistance to an overly conservative status quo, and went on in my 40s to write a book about the subject, I to this day find myself in situations where I feel flustered over a confusing mix of guilt, shame, and pride when people act uncomfortable with my history.
This past year as I nervously waited for a book signing event to begin at a Barnes & Noble, my host leaned in to whisper in my ear. “We’ll make an announcement about getting started,” she breathed, “but... um... we won’t mention the title of your book.”
I gave her a blank stare.
“You understand, right?” she asked.
“Sure. Thank you.”
Promoting a memoir called The Pornographer’s Daughter is a little tricky. The book itself isn't a salacious sex tale, by any means. It simply chronicles my family’s history, and how I grappled with it then and now. But the thing is, for as saturated as we are with porn, people are still pretty uneasy uttering words like "pornographer" out loud.
So in that way, I guess not a whole lot has changed in 42 years.