KILL DEVIL HILLS, N.C. – I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve never heard of erstwhile MMA fighter David “Do or Die” Derby, even if you follow the sport closely. Similarly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve never heard of porn performer David “Do or Die” Derby, even if you follow the adult industry closely.
Derby recently published a piece on OZY called “How I Became A Porn Star,” which was my introduction to him in both contexts, MMA and adult entertainment.
Like most first-person accounts of working in porn, Derby’s tale includes his take on certain misconceptions people have about the process and lifestyle, some of which will ring familiar for anyone who has spent time around porn video shoots.
“So many people — dudes mostly — think it’s easy,” Derby writes. “But you have a roomful of people, from the director, video guy, photographer, lights and makeup, and you’re trying to keep an erection and “act” like you’re into the scene… and you’re trying to please your partner or yourself.”
Derby also touches on other commonly-noted practical aspects of filming (“people around you are thinking camera angles, stopping and starting you so they can take still photos”) as well as things outside of porn might not consider when they imagine how porn production works (“sometimes, you have boyfriends and girlfriends on the set and there are jealousy issues”).
In defending his work in porn, however, Derby cites a couple details which made my brow furrow somewhat, even as I found myself agreeing with the point he was making.
For instance, while I tend to agree people have “a better chance of catching a disease on a Friday night having a drunken, mistake-filled one-night stand” than by performing in porn, Derby’s explanation for why he feels this way made me wonder whose workplace protocols he was following when he shot the scenes in question.
“I never understood the pushback,” Derby writes. “It’s totally legal. I also get negativity from people about diseases, but when you’re working, you have to be tested every three months. Blood tests too.”
Hmmm; performers must be tested every three months?
Thankfully, this is not the standard followed by most performers, at least those who shoot for established adult studios. These days, if you show up at a porn shoot with test results which are more than a few weeks old, you’re quite likely to be told you need to go get another test before anyone on that set will be willing to work with you.
To be fair, in the context of Derby’s piece, the statement about testing frequency is a minor thing. I just think to the extent the things people who work within the adult industry say and write are taken as the Gospel of How Porn Really Works by those outside the industry, it’s unfortunate to have any performer sell-short one of the few protective protocols our largely self-policed industry does have in place.
That said, given the abundance of woeful tales of former performers who rue the decision to ever appear in sexually-explicit depictions, it’s nice to read the account of someone who doesn’t seem to feel his choice ruined his life, disgraced his family, or somehow rendered him an irredeemable lout.
I also appreciate Derby’s perspective (the title of the piece notwithstanding) on the difference between being a “porn performer” and being a “porn star.”
“Just because you shot a video of yourself on your cellphone having sex and got 1,000 views on Pornhub doesn’t make you any kind of ‘star’,” Derby writes. “So, just to be clear: I never called myself a porn star.”
Here’s to Derby’s humility – and to him getting tested every two weeks, should he ever opt to have another go at porn-stardom.
