It read…
‘A growing look at the webcam sex industry, following Joseph (pictured) and three other men as they attempt to earn a living in this billion-pound business.’
It was closely followed by more magazine summaries (though they all said essentially the same thing), and a televised advert to promote BBC3’s ‘One Click Away’ season, which I was featured in, albeit in a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ little cameo.
I’d publicly outed myself as a webcam performer on Facebook a little while prior to all the promotion kicking in to gear, and though I’d set up a separate ‘fan page’ (or rather Steve had) under my camming username ‘Jmatt93’, I would still occasionally share posts that I felt were relevant on my main account.
It was exciting to open magazines and see my picture in them, and so of course I was going to promote the show, despite having not yet seen it myself.
My brother and April were both friends with me on Facebook, as was my Nana Sylvia (my father’s mum), but I never made a point of hiding any of the posts from them.
They all led busy lives of their own, so I wasn’t sure how much they knew or had seen or heard themselves, but I’d certainly made no secret of my involvement in the documentary. And besides – after it aired people were going to be talking about it anyway, (for better or for worse) so what would be the point in trying to keep it concealed?
When February 3rd finally came around, I was a bundle of nerves and excitement, all rolled into one. ‘Webcam Boys’ wasn’t set to air till 10pm in the evening, so I had the whole day to pace around the house in anticipation – trying to keep myself occupied with small menial tasks in the hope that time might pass by faster, but being unable to concentrate on any one of them for any significant amount of time.
At 1.15pm in the afternoon, I was caught off guard, when a lengthy Facebook message popped up from my Nana Sylvia…
‘You probably won’t like what I’m about to say to you, but I for one will not be watching you on TV tonight, as I am so ashamed of you! I know that you’re in to pain and power (by this I think she’s referring to sadomasochism) and there are lots of people who have the same perversion. I personally don’t like it but then again who am I to judge? I respect their choice so long as it doesn’t interfere in my life… but when it interferes in the life of a loved one I am very angry. I understand you need, and crave publicity at any cost. You certainly have no respect for your parents… and you like to give as much pain to your family for your pleasure – your mum, who holds your hand every time you fall and who spends all her life pondering to all your whims…. There are drug addicts in every walk of life that get by day by day in their own little world, but unfortunately you are also a publicity addict as well. This reflects on your family, and sadly can’t say friends as I honestly don’t think you have any true friends! As a grandson I love you, but as a person I don’t like you, I don’t think you even like yourself. Maybe one day it will sink in and you will grow up to be a likeable person, as it’s now I can’t foresee this, I only hope one day you will prove me wrong.’
After reading through all she had to say, I was, understandably in a state of distress and shock. As good as I am at times with written words, a Facebook response didn’t seem like nearly enough. I felt like the best thing to do would be to call her right away upon reading it, and hash things out over the phone. There was a lot she didn’t know (I hadn’t seen her in several years) and I felt that she was judging me far too harshly without being aware of a lot of the facts. That said, like anyone, she was entitled to her opinion and had raised a few fair points. I just thought the whole tone of her message was scathing and callous.
We managed to talk things over on the phone without any voices being raised on either side, but I still felt a lack of understanding on her part, and at times it seemed as if all my justifications for doing what I do were falling on deaf ears.
“Why can’t you just be Joe Bloggs?” I remember her saying to me at one point. “Why do you have to put your family through all this?”
“Because I’m not Joe Bloggs,” I replied defiantly. “And I never will be.”
I knew deep down that the real root cause of the problem Sylvia had with me was a little closer to home than she’d care to admit to. It certainly would make her own life an awful lot easier if I was closer in personality to my brother James – the man who was about to bring life into the world in the form of her first great grandchild, the man with a girlfriend, a 9 to 5 supermarket job, a steady income and plans for the future…
But as much as she so obviously wanted the same, or similar for me, I knew that it just wasn’t in the cards, and felt that I had to remain true to myself. I could never be my brother – but that was OK. If she couldn’t accept that, then I’m sorry to say that it was, and continues to be her problem, not mine.
As for ‘putting my family through all this’ – I’m not entirely sure quite what she meant by that. Yes, I’ve put my family through a lot, particularly with my drug addiction over the years, and no, I don’t feel proud of that in any way, shape or form. But for the most part I’ve come out of it the other side, and though my dad keeps his distance when it comes to the particulars of my endeavours, I have nothing but love and respect for the opportunities that both my parents have given me. In allowing me to utilise the outhouse as my cam room, even if they don’t agree with what I’m doing, it’s keeping me out of imminent danger and giving me the chance to save up – to one day move out and get the independence I crave. I don’t sign on at the dole, I rarely ask either of them for cash, and if I do it’s usually because I’m waiting for one of my cheques to clear, and I always make a point of paying them back as soon as I’m able to. Is that so bad of me?
We ended the phone conversation on a somewhat mutual ‘agree to disagree’ note (if there’s one thing Sylvia and I have in common, I suppose it’s that we’re both as stubborn as each other!), but obviously my nerves towards the reception I might receive in general following the documentary’s airing were magnified ten-fold after my discussion with her. ‘Webcam Boys’ hadn’t even been broadcast yet, and already I was facing backlash, from my own flesh and blood no less.
When the time came, I watched the documentary at home in the living room, with my mum. To some that might sound awkward, but if you understood the tight-knit relationship my mum and I share, then you’d recognise where I’m coming from when I say that it really wasn’t all that uncomfortable at all viewing it alongside her.
The opening titles burst on to the screen, with Mobeen’s distinctive voice narrating throughout, and as the show began we were introduced firstly to Will and Martyn, two 22 year old lads from Bournemouth who claimed to have been camming since the age of 16.
Both boys insisted that they were heterosexual, and that their particular audience liked the idea of two straight lads being comfortable enough in their own sexuality to be in the same room together naked (although never touching one another-something both men were adamant about, despite clips in the documentary suggesting otherwise) – but the programme alluded rather heavily that there might well have been something more to their working relationship than that.