Content Warning: This piece talks about pornography, sex work, sexual abuse, and human trafficking.
Listen to the story:
I open Google and type in www.cinesinclare.com.
A pop-up appears.
“Are you over 18?”
I click yes.
The webpage loads and fills with intimate revolving cover photos.
A film called Rubber appears at the top of the page.
Two women are featured smiling in a brightly lit scene that is filled with pastel balloons. It looks dreamy and whimsical — it’s the furthest thing from what I would expect to see on a porn site.
The header revolves again.
“Straight Sex” is written in a thick pastel pink serif font, with the word “straight” crossed out. A naked couple is featured kissing in front of a white brick wall.
Their bodies aren’t touching except for their lips. Their hands holding each other’s faces.
The shot is beautifully overexposed.
Other films entitled, Crush, Kiss, Attention, and Closer appear underneath this revolving header.
The couples living inside the tiny preview tiles are smiling, their foreheads are touching, my stomach doesn’t hurt from visiting this website.
I remember the first time I watched porn.
I was in grade five or six. My friend showed me the page, and when we opened it, I remember a feeling of nausea washing over me.
I don’t feel nauseous right now. I feel safe.
Safety on Porn Sets
This feeling of safety could be an extension of the safe space that Kate Sinclare (she/her), an award-winning queer and inclusive porn director from Winnipeg, creates on her sets.
“The idea that there isn’t safety on porn sets is an example of the societal perception of sex work being dangerous,” Sinclaire said.
Sinclaire makes sure nobody is exploited on her porn sets. Better yet, she strives to make everyone feel dignified and comfortable doing a job they chose to do for money.
Before Sinclaire begins shooting her films, she takes time with performers to have conversations about STIs and sign paperwork.
Sinclaire doesn’t require STI testing.
“I don’t require people to be negative or worse, clean. I hate that word. It’s just required that folks come forward with anything that they do have in their blood and let their partner know.”
Some people do shoot with their partners who have STIs. So, Sinclaire asks that each performer sign off acknowledging they’ve shared their status with their partners.
“We want to make sure that people feel safe. If someone comes forward in that STI briefing and says, ‘Hey, I have this’ and the other one doesn’t feel comfortable moving ahead, we just shoot solo scenes that day.”
If all the parties agree to shoot, there are internal condoms, external condoms, dental dams — all the protection you can imagine in bountiful quantities.
Another thing that goes along with STI paperwork? Piles of money on top of their contracts.
“They get paid as soon as they walk in the door.”
Paying the performers immediately is Sinclaire’s way of redistributing the power distance between her and them.
“That’s a risk, but it ensures performers aren’t going to end up forced into doing something they didn’t consent to.”
Safety Informed by Experience
Sinclaire’s outlook and on-set practices have been informed by experience.
“I’ve been through non-consensual experiences. Been through it so bad. [Those experiences] inform how I work.”
At 19, Sinclaire went through a bad breakup. Soon after their split, her ex-partner posted revenge porn (the distribution of sexually explicit images or videos of individuals without their consent) on message boards, a time before porn sites had categories dedicated to shaming women. When Sinclaire was packing her bags to leave, she discovered it on their shared computer, posted publicly for the world to see.
“I just found it. I read all the comments. It was really gross and unsettling. It’s all about power. It’s meant to ruin your future job prospects.”
“You could never find the owner (of the messaging boards.) There was no takedown policy. There is no way to access the people who owned it. So, you’re just stuck.”
Sinclaire ended up settling with her ex outside of court. At the time, there were no laws in place to protect victims of revenge porn. She laughs about it now, joking about how the settlement money afforded her a good university education and a nice couch. But Sinclaire says she needed to do something to reclaim her sexuality and become comfortable with her body again, that’s where her trauma-informed porn career began.
But there isn’t always a storybook ending for people in Sinclaire’s position, especially for those who have been trafficked.
“Families reject (victims) because they were abused. That’s so messed up and all of these prohibitionist law-making efforts just reinforce it and it’s disgusting,” Sinclaire said.
As a filmmaker, Sinclaire has also seen bad behaviour. Years ago she was traveling to Los Angeles to shoot a film and needed a last-minute lighting assistant.
Another sex educator had a recommendation, and although Sinclaire didn’t know him, she hired him because he had a good reputation.
“I’m realizing that you know other people’s ideas of sex positivity and safety are not like mine — not trauma-informed.”
The day the shoot came around, the lighting assistant non-consensually touched one of the performers.
Sinclaire had never experienced that before on one of her sets, and since that experience has been strict about both her rules on-set and knowing everyone she hires for her filming crew.
Sinclaire does everything she can to even out the power dynamics on set because too often people in the industry attempt to take advantage of their role as someone in control.
“This is work. These people are here to work. They’re not here to hook up with you. This isn’t about your ego. This is about creating a film.”
Sinclaire says these same power dynamics also exist in other professions and that they can be exploited in those situations too. One example might be a university professor who uses their power to coerce a student into an unwanted sexual relationship. The point Sinclaire is making is that instances of sexual harassment are not exclusive to sex work — clearly established rules are required to prevent the abuse of power on porn sets and elsewhere.
Creating an environment where people feel safe also includes respecting people’s desire to stop filming.
“We aim to get 90 minutes of footage. If we don’t, like my last one, we got 60. I don’t force people to continue working because I do recognize that sex work comes with baggage.”
Sinclaire ensures if the performer is uncomfortable at any point, they can stop shooting. Sinclaire will just have a shorter film.
“I can still market it. That’s my job.”
Sinclaire’s safety protocols go beyond physical safety, she also prioritizes safety around identity.
Sinclaire’s work is award-winning because it also creates safe spaces for marginalized groups to experience pleasure and see themselves represented in porn. Her films often star trans folks, queer folks, and those with disabilities.
Disabled folks who have acted in Sinclaire’s films have told her how impactful the experience was for them. Knowing that other disabled people would see the films and see themselves represented was a sacred experience for them.
Accessibility is a priority on all levels on Ciné Sinclaire.
The site also offers their porn subscription on a sliding scale, ensuring anyone who wants to watch her films can have access to them. Viewers can pay a minimum of $1, pay the suggested price, or pay more than the suggested price depending on their financial abilities.
Resources for Sex Workers
Sinclaire is part of a wider community in Winnipeg that is working to spread the message about the danger of stigmatizing sex workers.
According to its website, The Sex Workers Action Coalition, (SWWAC) “is a hub for sex workers in Winnipeg to connect with activism, community, and resources.” This group provides resources for sex workers, including the “Bad Date List” where Sex workers can anonymously report clients with whom they’ve had bad experiences.
Jonny Mexico, (they/them) is an advocate for harm reduction in sex work. They explain that sex workers provide consensual sexual services to customers. This term goes for all areas of the sex industry: from porn to escort services to stripping, and anything else you can think of that provides paid and consensual sexual encounters.
One stereotype customers face is that they’re inherently violent if they purchase sexual services, or that they ‘get off’ from the fantasy of paying for a sexual encounter. But Mexico says some clients have mobility or cognitive barriers and struggle to find a partner. Some folks simply want someone to talk to. There are many reasons people desire consensual and paid sexual experiences, and those reasons often revolve around connection.
Early in the COVID-19 pandemic, when people couldn’t meet for dates or visits from sexual partners, the online sex work industry became even more popular as folks looked to feel more connected — or simply turned on from home. Take the website OnlyFans as an example. In 2021, users spent $2.36 billion on the website.
As a kid in Vancouver, Mexico grew up wanting to work on a farm — they never imagined growing up to do advocacy work. But after being consensually involved within the sex trade for several years, that work became a natural next step. Especially when Mexico recognized their privilege within the sex industry.
“I could say no to clients if I wanted to. There were a lot of things that privilege brings to folks in order to help with the safety aspect. I had a lot of folks that also looked out for me.”
When Mexico arrived in Winnipeg, they noticed it was difficult to have conversations around consensual sex work. They felt the narrative always revolved around exploitation.
“People thought you’d come to see the light and you will realize that you too are exploited. That everybody that purchases sex is a predator; everybody that purchases sex is violent, which was certainly not my experience or the experiences of other individuals. And so, we got together.”
Mexico was then invited to join SWWAC, where they still work. Mexico is also a co-chair for the Winnipeg regional team for Tracia’s Trust — Manitoba’s strategy to end sexual exploitation in the province.
Sinclaire, who is also a member of SWWAC, said “what I’m doing is bringing the reality that sex work isn’t always dangerous. And that the things that make sense are dangerous, are external to sex work.”
Some of those external factors are criminalization of the trade, societal judgment, and alienation.
Consensual Sex Work and Trafficking
Consensual sex work is often conflated with sex trafficking. People who provide completely consensual services to customers can face severe legal consequences like being fined large sums of money, and even getting arrested.
Sex work and human trafficking are not the same — but sex workers can be exploited, in part because the profession is driven underground.
Advocates like Sinclaire and Mexico say taking away the secrecy and legal consequences could help to reduce exploitation.
Sex Work and the Law
On September 29, 2014, a Canadian bill was passed that treats prostitution as a form of sexual exploitation.
“If you were meeting up with two sex workers and one sex worker has, or they both have ads on their websites and it says, “Hey, if you’re looking for duos or whatever, connect with my friend and we can hook something up,” that sex worker could be charged with trafficking. If one sex worker helps another sex worker get a date, that’s trafficking,” Mexico explained.
Trafficking is a real problem — a problem that disproportionately affects Indigenous youth in Canada.
“(Sex workers) are against violence. Folks do not want to see people get hurt. People wanna see safety. One of SWWAC’s taglines is ‘fight exploitation, not sex workers,” Mexico added.
Mexico says it’s not consensual sex work that’s dangerous, but the practices surrounding it.
“So, if I have the opportunity to screen clients, work in partnership, or work indoors, a lot of the circumstances in which violence could present itself is eradicated.”
Sinclaire shares the same outlook as Mexico.
“Society focuses so much on the times that workers are disempowered and that doesn’t allow the space for resilience and joy, which are really things that the sex worker movement is trying to emphasize right now. We have communities, we build friendships, we build support networks,” said Sinclaire.
Looking Ahead
Without community, there is no progress.
Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act (PCEPA) is one of Canada’s prostitution laws Sinclaire and her activism group are trying to repeal.
The goal of repealing this act is not to endanger the sex work community or promote more violence. Sinclaire explains that repealing this act and adding labour rights is what her community needs to make their work safe.
“Abuse, violence, and trafficking are already illegal. Placing additional carceral language around sex work specifically increases criminalization of folks just trying to make a living and puts vulnerable people at risk by creating stigma and the victim/abuser dichotomy.”
Before any law can be altered, government committees use community research to inform their decision-making. Sinclaire explains that the particular sources the government uses for research are frustrating.
“Committees really just reach out to ‘witnesses,’ who can be literally anyone, and accept briefs from literally anyone, listen to that feedback, and come to a conclusion. The witnesses are hand-selected by MPs. The justice committee is six Liberals, four Conservatives, a Bloc, and an NDP member — and each MP gets to hand-select witnesses that go with their ideas/beliefs. So, no sex workers are being selected.”
Supporting Sex Workers
According to Sinclaire, the first step in supporting sex workers is understanding the difference between sex work and trafficking and how harmful it can be to misconstrue the two.
“Protecting the rights of sex workers makes everyone safer, not the other way around,” said Sinclaire.
Sinclaire says that she’s often asked how she’d feel if she had a daughter doing sex work, a notion many people feel discouraged by.
“My answer is that I’d hope that she would be allowed to be safe. I would hope that she would have access to supports that make her work safer, like working with her colleagues in a safe location. Maybe she’d have a good boss who couldn’t make her work overtime unless she consented. I’d want her to not be in fear of her bank accounts being seized. I’d want her to be supported, not stigmatized, self-determined, and powerful.”
Sinclaire recommends people learn more about the reality of sex work by listening to sex workers directly. She says this white paper is a good place to start: Stella’s 10 WAYS TO BE A GREAT ALLY TO SEX WORKERS.