thirty-three
On a dreary and rainy Saturday in late May hundreds of people formed a picket line outside the Frisco Theater in Manhattan, a movie house that had been showing
Deep Throat
for as long as anyone could remember. Since I was expecting a second child a month later, I wasn’t allowed to participate. I didn’t even see the pickets until that night on all the television news programs. And then I saw scores of women, along with quite a few men, carrying posters (“Deep Six
Deep Throat
” and “PorNo!”) and marching in a ring outside the theater.
Immediately after the demonstration, I met with other women at the storefront headquarters of Women Against Pornography. Despite the fact that the small room was jammed with television cameras and reporters, I felt comfortable. Maybe because I knew I was surrounded by friends.
And among those friends was author-lecturer Andrea Dworkin, who introduced me.
“
Deep Throat
is not an expression of speech; it is a crime against this woman, Linda Marchiano, who, prior to and during the filming, was deprived of every human right guaranteed to citizens of this country. Those millions upon millions of men—especially those freedom-loving liberals—who found
Deep Throat
so much fun must be told what they should have known all along: that they have been enjoying and defending and laughing at the sexual abuse of a woman.
“I call on women throughout this country to rise up in fury against
Deep Throat.
Wherever and whenever
Deep Throat
is showing, a woman is being raped.”
This day I was to meet and feel the support from many women who spoke every bit as powerfully. I was very impressed that actress Valerie Harper was there, as was author Susan Brownmiller and many other Women Against Pornography.
And then it was my turn to speak. This was a brand new experience for me. I had answered every conceivable question, but never before had I stood up and read words from a piece of paper. The tension of the moment joined with the heat, the crowd, the closed-in feeling, may have made me stumble a bit but I meant every word.
“My reasons for supporting a boycott of
Deep Throat
are personal, intensely personal. I hate the thought of people making money—and I’m talking about vast fortunes—from the most degrading and terrifying time of my life.
“What about you? What will your reasons be for boycotting
Deep Throat
? It seems to me there are plenty of reasons to choose from. What reasons? Well, you might consider boycotting the film on the simplest of grounds: basic good taste.
“Or perhaps you’ll just decide to keep your hard-earned dollars out of the hands of men who brutalize women for a living. And there’s the chance that you won’t want to propagate an absurd but dangerous male fantasy—that some women get sexual satisfaction from being brutally throat-raped. Or maybe you’ll just do it as a personal favor to me.
“If, however, you decide to see
Deep Throat
, I hope you’ll pay close attention. And when you see those huge black-and-blue marks on my legs and thighs—believe me, you can’t miss them—I hope you’ll sense my pain and degradation; after all, you just bought a share of it.”
Later, as the memorable day ended, I wondered whether it would do any good. The television cameras and reporters disappeared; the pickets packed up their signs; and
Deep Throat
was still there as it had been ever since it was first released nearly a decade earlier.
However, a few months later—was it a residual effect?—the movie disappeared altogether from Manhattan. And today, as I write these words, it hasn’t returned. Who can say whether that’s a result of the boycott or not? Maybe a story like mine isn’t accepted all at once; maybe it has to seep slowly into the public consciousness and then, after a length of time, it is gradually accepted. Perhaps
Deep Throat
stopped seeming so amusing so “chic,” once people began to see I was telling the truth.
For me it was the start of something new. I began to feel that it was possible to change (if just a bit) the shape of the world. Larry was having trouble understanding what I was feeling. While I was giving the speech, he escaped to the crowd outside the headquarters building and waited for me to say my piece and head for home. He felt things had gone far enough; now was the time to put public appearances behind us and get back to the business of raising a family.
For me, an opposite drive. Although I was anxious to return home, there was too much unfinished business. It seemed the wrong time to retreat. For the first time I saw the possibility of victory. When all these people—both women and men—stood up on my behalf, it gave me something to stand up for, too.
And now, when Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity at San Diego State University announced the showing of
Deep Throat
as a fundraiser, there was an uproar. Women told the fraternity boys that they would throw up picket lines and then carry their demonstration inside the theater. Some of the alumni warned the boys that showing the film would place the fraternity’s financial future in jeopardy. The film was cancelled.
The war against pornography won’t be won in a day or a year. However, individual battles can be fought and won. And there are other times when a loss can be as good as a victory. The real victory is education.
If a group decides to go ahead and show
Deep Throat
, no matter what is known about my victimization, what happens? What happens to the person who knows better but still goes ahead and buys the ticket? Is that movie something he is apt to enjoy? Or is it more likely that he will feel guilty and ill-at-ease? What is he going to feel when he sees the bruises all over my thighs? Oh, I think there is more than one way to register a victory in this struggle.
As I traveled to college communities, often just to speak out against a scheduled showing of
Deep Throat,
I made more and more friends. Friends like Kathleen Barry, author of the book
Female Sexual Slavery
. Before we got together—first to do a television program, later to speak before university audiences—I received a copy of her book.
Female Sexual Slavery
was Kathleen Barry’s study of the ordeal of many women not unlike myself.
According to Kathleen, my situation was anything but unique: “Female sexual slavery is present in
all
situations where women or girls cannot change the immediate conditions of their existence; where regardless of how they got into those conditions, they cannot get out; and where they are subject to sexual violence and exploitation.”
We were of the same mind—actually, of course, she is an intellectual and I’ve never been called that. But people like Kathleen Barry have been able to put my experience in perspective, to make it more understandable to myself and others. She knew more about me—more about women who have been through my experiences—than I did myself. And whenever she speaks about them, I learn a great deal about myself. And I just know she persuaded many women to at least listen to what I had to say.
“I have mentioned Linda Lovelace’s name repeatedly and I get a very uncomfortable kind of response from feminists,” she said during one speech. “She has come out with a strong statement regarding her enslavement, saying she was forced to do
Deep Throat
and a whole lot of hideous and ugly things prior to that. When I read her book before I met her, there wasn’t a thing in it that surprised me. It’s an absolute confirmation of everything that’s in my book. . . .”
Addressing the Pittsburgh Conference on Pornography: A Feminist Perspective, I found the theme I was to repeat more than a few times.
“I often hear pornography described as ‘a victimless crime,’ ” I began. “I’m here to tell you that’s a lie. During the filming of
Deep Throat
I was a prisoner. I was repeatedly hypnotized, beaten, raped, tortured and threatened with a loaded gun. Not for a minute do I feel I am the only victim of this so-called ‘victimless’ crime.
“What about the films of sexual abuse of children five years old or seven years old or nine years old—would you dare tell me they are
not
victims? And does a person become any less of a victim at age 11—or 13 or 19—or ever?”
thirty-four
More and more often I was meeting people who saw things my way. Many times I’ve been asked why I didn’t sue the men who used me. More than a few lawyers have explored just that possibility. The statute of limitations prevented me from suing the men who brutalized me directly; and the men who continue to profit from showing
Deep Throat
, the filmed record of that brutalization, seem beyond the reach of any law.
That statute of limitations is a real obstacle to women such as myself. After being enslaved and degraded for a period of years, you don’t just escape and go running to an attorney. It takes years to get over the fear, to find yourself, to discover who you really are and what you’re capable of doing.
One lawyer who became deeply involved in my life was Catharine (Kitty) MacKinnon. Kitty has remained a friend wherever she has gone. And she has traveled far and wide in leading the legal fight against pornography.
While an associate professor at the University of Minnesota Law School in Minneapolis, she persuaded the city council to pass an amendment to the city’s civil rights ordinance, one that defined pornography as discrimination against women. The ordinance was co-authored by our mutual friend, Andrea Dworkin, who was also a visiting professor at the university.
This was important because it was the first attempt to use civil rights law in the war against pornography. And it was important to me, personally, because it would have given me some legal means of striking back at the men who imprisoned me and used me. And so when they asked me to come out to Minneapolis and testify on behalf of their legislation, it was my pleasure.
After an opening statement, I responded to questions from the City Council. One of the questions was the one that has always given me the most difficulty. But I decided I would handle that the way I’m handling everything else these days. I was asked again about the film with the dog. The chairman gave me a possible out—“Would you like to respond?”—but I didn’t want any more outs; I wanted to face up to it all. Finally, I had to face up to it.
Flashback to—
The gun. A revolver. Sitting on a small table. Surrounded by three men. And Chuck threatening me: “This is direct disobedience to a fucking order. You know the only choice you got? You make this movie or you’re going to die. That’s your big choice. . . . Take off your clothes, cunt.” Three men and one gun—what chance did I have? Reaching up then, unbuttoning my blouse, surrendering. Oh, God! A dog. An animal.
Me, naked, on a mattress, and the director saying, “Now look around the room. Slowly, slowly. Now you see your dog and you go ‘Oooooooh!’ and now you look excited. Make it look like all of a sudden you’re coming up with a brilliant idea. That’s right, now snap your fingers.”
And then the dog, tan-colored dog with short hair, longer than a German Shepherd but skinnier. And the dog’s owner, a young man in his mid-twenties, saying, “This old fellow can go all day and all night. Don’t sweat it. ”
The glare of the lights. The dog’s eyes glittering, beady, in those lights. “Okay, Linda, now pet the dog. That’s right, pet the dog. . . . Okay, now we’ll try a little foreplay. How’s the dog with foreplay?” “Just sensational is all,” the owner says. The dog licking me then, licking me all over. “C’mon, Linda, laugh it up, you’re supposed to be enjoying this! That’s right, laugh!” Laughing hysterically but wanting only to cry. “Okay, Linda, now get down on all fours. That’s right . . . Wow, this fuckin’ dog is game, he’s game for more. Lookit him go—we got a real winner here. Nice dog, good doggie.”
The men giving the dog a biscuit, petting him. Chuck staring at me, studying, measuring. He knew, he knew this was the worst moment of my life and he would use it against me forever. For me there were no more humiliations, no greater degradations, nothing that would ever feel worse.
“Yes, I think it is important that everyone understands,” I said. “Prior to that film being made, about a week, Mr. Traynor suggested the thought that I do films with a D-O-G and I told him that I wouldn’t do it. I suffered a brutal beating, he claims he suffered embarrassment because I wouldn’t do it.
“We then went to another porno studio, one of the sleaziest ones I have ever seen, and then this guy walked in with his animal and I again started crying. I started crying. I said no, I am not going to do this and they were all very persistent—the two men involved in making the pornographic film and Mr. Traynor himself.
“And I started to leave and go outside of the room where they make these films and when I turned around there was all of a sudden a gun displayed on the desk. And having seen the coarseness and callousness of the people involved in pornography, I knew that I would have been shot and killed.
“Needless to say, the film was shot and still is one of the hardest ones for me to deal with today.”
It was a relief finally to be able to talk about it. The questioning went on but the other questions didn’t bring old ghosts back to life. I was asked about something that was very much on my mind.
“How do you feel about the existence of the film
Deep Throat
and its continually being shown?”
“I feel very hurt and very disappointed in my society and my country for allowing the fact that I was raped, I was beaten, I was put through two and a half years of what I was put through. And it’s taken me almost ten years to overcome the damage that it caused.
“And the fact that this film is still being shown and that my children will one day walk down the street and see their mother being abused, it makes me angry, it makes me sad. Every time someone watches that film, they are watching me be raped.”
The questioning was over and it was time to leave. But I had something more to say.
“Thank you,” I said. “I would like to say thank you for everybody who made it possible for me to be here tonight. I want to speak out for what happened to me and for other members in our society. I feel that it is important that victims have a chance today in our society. And I also want to say that my children thank you.”
The ordinance was passed in Minneapolis, only to be later vetoed by the mayor. The issue, however, is not a dead one. The same drama is being played across the country—even in my own home county in New York. When they asked me to speak on the legislation there—it was almost the same as the one proposed in Minneapolis—I agreed, but with reservations. This was too close to home and I’ve tried to avoid notoriety in the quiet community where I am now bringing up two small children as normally and peacefully as possible.
My life suddenly had a purpose. If anyone was doing a story on pornography, I was on the list of people to see. And that was just fine with me. If they can use me, I’m happy to be used for something worthwhile.
The people I’ve met in this fight, and the people I continue to meet, strike me as independent and smart. And, on occasion, just a bit scary.
Larry was not happy with all the women who were suddenly my friends. But this part of our life has been an education for both of us. Some of these women are quite tough. Larry makes jokes about how tough they are. But the way I look at it, to survive in this world, you have to be tough.
If these women didn’t always remind Larry of the old-fashioned girls and women, that’s too bad—but at least no one is using them. However, there was one who made us both a bit nervous. Although we were fighting the same war, we had different battle plans.
She felt that education and legislation were too slow and unsure. Direct action was her answer. She thought nothing of smashing windows in a book store or throwing a Molotov cocktail into a porno theater. (I happened to meet her in a small town where the fire department was on strike and she said, “Oh, wow, now’s the time I should get into business again.”)
Over the past couple of years I’ve gotten other letters from her and now she feels she was too radical. The last letter I got from her, she was settling into the community and trying to get back her children from her former husband.
I’m still bothered by the pornography-fighters who are too impatient, too radical. On the one hand you’ve got the extremist, the bombthrower, and then you’ve got the women like Gloria who go about everything through legal channels. I guess the Blacks had the exact same problem with their Panthers and the NAACP.
While I hate pornography as much as anyone, I think it should be fought through proper channels. I don’t think violence is necessary. The business of busting up windows and bookstores and theaters is wrong.
Often these days I’m asked what should be done about pornography. I don’t think I should be the one to say. The truth is this: I don’t really know. I can describe the problem; I can tell about my experiences; but I’m really not qualified to give the solution to that problem.
It seems to me that recently they’ve been taking a very creative approach to the problem in California. People have always had trouble defining such terms as “pornography” and “obscenity” and “lust” and without precise definitions, there can’t be much of a law. The other major roadblock is trying to find a law that doesn’t interfere with freedom of speech.
A 1982 California law simply outlaws the hiring of a person to perform a sex act. If it could be shown—as it clearly could be—that I had been hired to perform sex acts in
Deep Throat,
the culprits might have been punished.
In a recent test case the defense claimed that the women were actresses and, thus, protected under the First Amendment. The jury, given a chance to see the movie, decided they weren’t actresses after all. And the verdict was guilty.
Many people feel this is a basic moral issue and they’re going to take extreme measures. I can understand that. I don’t think
Deep Throat
should be playing in any theater at all, not anywhere in the world, and knowing that it is makes me feel a little desperate from time to time.
Sometimes I wonder whether all the talking makes any inroads at all into the porno business. When I’m in a depressed mood, I doubt it. Those darkest times usually come late at night and I wonder how many people are watching the movie at the very moment and how many of them have been intrigued by the knowledge that I was an unwilling participant.
But who can really tell what the result of all this is? When I’m in a strange city doing a phone-in radio show, there will always be calls from men saying they had no idea, that they would never again go to a porno movie. I don’t doubt their sincerity. But does it really hurt the porno industry? Probably not. Maybe the porno business is a rhinocerous and I’m just a BB pellet bouncing off it.
But for me, personally, it has had tremendous meaning. The bad experiences I had to go through have value, and a life that once had no meaning now has some meaning.