Suzanne Harrington: Could there be two tastier words in English right now than Stormy Daniels?
Adult film actress Stormy Daniels arrives for the opening of the adult entertainment fair Venus in Berlin, Oct. 11, 2018.
Oh boy. Named after bad weather and bourbon, this pussycat is grabbing back with a degree of magnificence not normally associated with a woman being mud-slung; she is flinging it back with hilarity, gusto, bravura. Splat, splat, splat.
While not happening in actual court – unlike the orange creature, she’s not on trial – she’s having fun on Twitter. With every tweet, Stormy proffers a masterclass in ass-owning. Even her nickname for the ex ‘president’– tiny – is spelled with a small t: “Also applies to his IQ, integrity, hands, etc.” She’s had so many messages of support she can’t personally respond, because “[I] don’t want to spill my champagne.”
Obviously, given the nature of her work – Ms Daniels writes, directs, and performs in films you wouldn’t watch with your nan – the weaponised shame directed at her by evangelical family-values supporters of the ex ‘president’ bounces off like bullets off steel. You cannot shame a porn professional, as the righteous are discovering, especially one who is married to another one.
“He’s done over 5K sex scenes with some of the sexiest women on earth.” She adds how “It’s definitely more fun being under my sexy man instead of under arrest.”
When evangelicals tell her to read the bible, she responds, “I prefer nonfiction.”
Stormy’s response to the mind-boggling hypocrisy of those tolerating incompetent criminality, while condemning an adult filmmaker for being an adult filmmaker, is in the same ballpark as George Michael’s response to being arrested for having sex in a public loo in LA in 1998.
You’ll remember how after being arrested – creepily tailed by an undercover cop – George’s response was to dress up as a cop himself, in a public loo, with disco lights and glitter balls, for his next single Outside. Celebrating himself, refusing to be shamed. That was twenty-five years ago, and there has not been such a moment of such fabulous ownership since – until Stormy.
Nothing destroys shame more than humour. You cannot silence anyone with shame if they’re laughing about it. Unlike the blustering misogyny directed against her, Stormy has harnessed the whole pitiful car crash to her supreme advantage; she is not just owning it, but using it to boost her profile, sell her merch, promote her business, and make us laugh in the process.
As the puritanical right clutch their pearls while dividing women into ‘classy’ (Melania) and ‘whore’ (Stormy), no such division is applied to the orange mess in the New York courtroom – his supporters replicate his misogyny, even as they direct it at a woman whose sense of self remains impenetrable.
You might not covet her day job, but Stormy Daniels is a feminist heroine with a cracking sense of humour. I’d buy her a drink. A pornstar martini. A whole round of them.
