Prudes Are Hating My Mildly Sexualised Images. They Are Trying To Shut Down My Pinterest Board

I regularly receive complaints about some of the images I share online.

Most of the time, it comes from somebody who has stumbled across my Pinterest board and decided they don’t approve of what they see. They report an offensive image via the platform’s flagging facility. They make it their mission to complain about as much content as possible.

The funny thing is that nobody is forced to look.

Pinterest is a visual platform. People search for images that interest them. They follow boards that appeal to them. They ignore the boards that don’t. It seems like a fairly simple and equitable arrangement.

Yet every so often, somebody discovers my collection of artistic romantic photography and decides they need to save the rest of the world from seeing it.

I have never really understood that mindset. There’s nothing offensive about love.

If I don’t like fishing, I don’t spend my day hunting down fishing websites. If I hate dogs, I wouldn’t search for dog photos. If I don’t enjoy romance novels, I don’t buy them just to complain about them. If photography featuring human romance isn’t your thing, there are millions of other ways to see and find something else.

The internet is a very large place. There’s room for everyone.

And yet some people don’t seem to find the right amount of space. They are determined to spend their time standing in front of things they dislike and demanding that they be removed.

What fascinates me most is that many of the images attracting complaints are in no way pornographic. Many are suggestive, but that’s all.

There is a tendency to lump these suggestive images into a “pornographic” category, thereby deeming them offensive enough to be removed. Clothing disappears, skin replaces it, and the conversation changes to sex. For some viewers, it’s about sexual deviancy.

Photography doesn’t work that way.

A photograph can be sensual without being explicit. It can be intimate without being sexual. It can explore beauty, vulnerability, confidence, ageing, identity, loneliness, desire, or self-expression. Love has been the subject of art for thousands of years. Painters explored it. Sculptors explored it. Photographers explore it too.

When love crosses to lust, that’s when knees begin to wobble.

A marble statue displayed in a gallery is often considered acceptable, whereas a carefully composed contemporary photograph of two people in an embrace is heavily scrutinised.

I’ve always found that curious.

Perhaps the issue isn’t about sex or love at all.

Perhaps the issue is context.

People are often comfortable with romance when it is distant, historical, or wrapped in the language of fine art. Present the same themes in a contemporary photograph, and suddenly, opinions become more complicated.

The image hasn’t changed.

The bodies haven’t changed.

Only the viewer’s interpretation of them has changed.

As somebody who has spent many years behind a camera, I know there is a world of difference between creating an artistic image and creating something intended purely to shock.

Most photographers who work with this subject spend far more time thinking about light, posing, expression, composition, and emotion than they do about sensing sexual overtones.

Two bodies become another element within the frame.

The challenge is not showing too much touch in the touch.

The challenge is creating something meaningful.

Unfortunately, the internet is not always a place where nuance thrives.

Algorithms don’t understand intent.

Moderation systems don’t always understand context.

People scrolling quickly through content don’t always pause long enough to consider what they are looking at.

As a result, artistic work can sometimes find itself caught in the same net as genuinely explicit material.

That’s simply the reality of publishing online.

Platforms have rules. Those rules change. Sometimes content survives. Sometimes it disappears. Sometimes an image can remain untouched for years before being suddenly flagged by someone who has taken offence.

I’ve seen all of it.

The irony is that complaints often draw more attention to the work than the work would have received on its own.

Many people who object to artistic imagery seem convinced they are protecting society from something dangerous. Yet history suggests the opposite may be true. Human beings have always been fascinated by romantic relationships. We have painted them, sculpted them, photographed them, written about them, and celebrated them throughout countless cultures and generations.

Trying to pretend that passion doesn’t exist has never worked particularly well.

What interests me more is why certain images trigger such strong reactions in some people.

Why do some viewers scroll past without a second thought while others become deeply offended?

Why can one person see beauty while another sees something threatening?

The answer probably says more about the viewer than the photograph.

Images act like mirrors.

People often bring their own beliefs, experiences, values, fears, and insecurities into the viewing process. Two people can look at the exact same photograph and walk away with entirely different impressions.

That isn’t really a photography issue.

It’s a human behaviour issue.

And human behaviour has always fascinated me.

Perhaps that is one reason I continue sharing these images despite the occasional complaint.

Not because I enjoy controversy.

Not because I want to provoke people.

But because the reactions themselves tell an interesting story.

Every complaint reveals something about the person making it.

Every discussion reveals something about how society views the body, sexuality, art, and personal freedom.

The photographs remain unchanged.

The conversation around them continues to evolve.

Will people keep reporting artistic images?

Probably.

Will platforms continue adjusting their rules?

Almost certainly.

Will there always be somebody waiting to be offended by something they could have simply ignored?

I suspect so.

There is a twist to my story, one element I’ve omitted that changes everything. It’s the title of the board I put these photos in. It’s called “Our Secret Affair”.

The knee-jerk reaction comes from a connection people make between the images and the board’s name. They see the photo, read the title and hate what it represents. They get angry and flag the image for deletion.

Like any good photo that offers multiple interpretations to a viewer, a good board title does the same. “Our Secret Affair” could mean many things. I sense that the one that offends the most is the idea of cheating. Folks don’t like cheaters, cheating, or being cheated on. They put themselves somewhere in the image’s composition and don’t like where they sit.

But their argument stalls almost immediately.

Although the image is inappropriate for them, it doesn’t break any of Pinterest’s rules. Neither does the board’s title. If someone makes an unlikeable connection through two layers of interpretation, that doesn’t deem the image (or the board) inappropriate for Pinterest.

Cheating might be a crime of the heart, but it isn’t one for Pinterest.

It just shows how easily people can be offended by anything, how they want to tell someone about it, and fix what they feel. They want to feel better, but can’t, because the problem doesn’t lie with the image or the board.

It’s with the person who interprets things the way they do and thinks they can change others by pressing a flagging button.

In the meantime, I’ll keep creating, keep sharing, and keep exploring the subjects that interest me.

The camera doesn’t care about outrage.

The light certainly doesn’t.

And neither, for the most part, do I.

Incidentally, every flagged photo of mine on Pinterest has been returned to display at least 48 hours later.

–Michael (Dark Fiction. Author of SEETHINGS (the first book), free for a limited time)