Southern Lady Code: Essays(24)

So, I watch. And then, I enjoy myself. “Enjoy myself” is Southern Lady Code for clitoral stimulation and a nap.

My husband asks, “I don’t have porn in my Twitter stream, does it just show up?”

“No,” I say. “It gloms onto me as followers. Like suckerfish on a whale. I have a friend whose last name is Weed, and she gets followers with pot leaves as their avatars.”

My husband asks, “So, you actively seek out porn?”

“No,” I say, “but I have to find it to report it.”

Here’s how you spot a Twitter pornographer: The avatar is a picture of an erect penis, a man with his hand on his erect penis, bare breasts, or—if you are wondering what that is a close-up of—vaginal labia. Sometimes there’s no avatar, but the bald gray silhouette has a name like a NASA password, hasn’t tweeted, and is following the likes of Dubai Call Girls, Indian Sex Videos, Horny Slut, and Massage for Ladies.

Click such a new follower, scroll down one post, and there you have it: Twitter pornography. For example: a video of a woman spread-eagled on her stovetop, gripping her ankles like S.O.S pads.

My husband says, “So you do watch it.”

“Yes,” I say. “But I don’t pay for it or Google it. I’m a lady. I’m discreet. I put my finger over the camera lens so it won’t see me watching. Besides, I don’t want to get blackmailed.”

My husband says, “You’re not going to get blackmailed. But is that why you report it? Like, as an insurance policy? Or because you feel guilty?”

“A little of both,” I say. “I guess it’s like some women run on a treadmill after they were naughty and ate a muffin. But mainly I report it because I’m a lady. I didn’t ask to see it. It’s like a freak show. Sure, every once in a while, I want to see a guy hammer nails up his nose, but I don’t want a bunch of carnies showing up at my door uninvited and pitching tents inside my house.”

“Or force-feeding you muffins,” says my husband.

“Exactly,” I say.

Twitter writes: “Help us understand the problem with @hornyguy1968. What issue are you reporting?”

My choices are: “I’m not interested in this account,” “They are tweeting spam,” “It appears their account is hacked,” “They’re pretending to be me or someone else,” “Their Tweets are abusive or hateful,” or “Their profile info and/or image include abusive or hateful content.”

Since there is no category for pornography, I pick “Tweets are abusive and hateful.”

Twitter writes: “How is @hornyguy1968 being abusive or hateful?”

My choices are: “Being disrespectful or offensive,” “Engaging in targeted harassment,” “Directing hate against a race, religion, gender, or orientation,” “Threatening violence or physical harm,” or “Contemplating suicide or self-harm.”

Since there is no category for pornography, I pick “Being disrespectful or offensive.”

Twitter writes: “We understand that you may not want to see every Tweet of @hornyguy1968, and we’re sorry you saw something on Twitter that offended you.” Turns out Twitter speaks Southern Lady Code. “Sorry you saw something that offended you” is Southern Lady Code for: Get that stick out of your butt, Miss Prissy Pants.

My choices to disassociate with the pornography are “mute” or “block.” Mute makes the pornographer disappear from my view. Block makes us both disappear from each other’s.

I block @hornyguy1968.

Out of more than 15,000 followers, I’ve recently blocked 208 because I am a lady. But I fear that Twitter pornographers are like mice: you kill one in your kitchen, there are thirty more in the walls.

So, I decide to look deeper. I decide to clean my virtual house. And I do it the only way I know how: I look at each of my followers one at a time.

You are who you associate with, and as I scroll through my newest 1,600 followers, for the most part I find married women and moms, sorority girls and gay men, yogis and professional organizers, librarians and booksellers. But mixed in are ninety-eight pornographers. And they ain’t all posting American housewife amateur porn.

Here are the video cover images I saw, but did not click: a naked woman penetrated by a penis in her every orifice; a naked woman wearing a hijab with a penis in her anus, being choked; what looked to be a naked twelve-year-old girl holding her breast; and—I can barely stand to write it—a naked woman bent over a bed in front of a donkey.

I feel nauseated and assaulted.

These can’t all be willing participants. How are these things in existence, much less on Twitter? How is what I’ve so easily found not monitored and policed?

So, I try a new tactic to get Twitter’s attention: instead of reporting tweets, I report that a profile image is abusive or hateful.

Twitter takes notice. “What kind of content does their profile image contain?”

My choices are: “Adult,” “graphic,” or “hateful.”

Since there is no category for pornography, I pick “Adult.”

Twitter writes: “If we find that this account is violating the Twitter Rules, we will take action on it.”

I don’t know the Twitter Rules, but I’m willing to bet gang bangs, rape, pedophilia, and donkey sex are in the Don’ts column.