I write porn scripts for a living. It has created tension with my family, but it's my most enjoyable job.

• My mom, who was raised by strict Catholic nuns, doesn't appreciate my job as a porn writer.
• I accepted the job because of financial necessity, but now I really enjoy it.

My mother always encouraged me to follow whatever career path made me happy — until my job went against her religious values.

"Are you still doing the porn," she asks grimly over the phone.

"I'm not starring in it," I clarify, once more. "I write the dialogue!"

"Honey, you're talented enough to write for so many other places," she responds, to which I enumerate my other freelance writing jobs and publications.

Mom only sees the dark cloud of sex hovering over me. But it's a job I love, and actually quite enjoy, and don't plan on quitting anytime soon.

It started out of financial necessity

When I started writing scripts for adult entertainment, it was out of financial necessity.

Though my career appeared wealthy on paper, being published in top-tier publications doesn't guarantee your next pitch being approved, or your next paycheck. So I didn't hesitate to apply to an ad on LinkedIn to write for InMelanin Productions.

I had already authored a sex column that Mom refused to read. I figured the transition from advising to fabricating wouldn't be that difficult.

Hazel Grace, the founder, was interested in my application, so we scheduled a Zoom meeting. She chronicled her negative experiences in the industry and how the George Floyd protests during the pandemic inspired her to create change rather than wait for it. So she started InMelanin Productions with the mission of featuring and empowering women porn stars of color like herself, without the offensive story lines, tokenization, and fetishization.

"That's why I need a talented writer," she said, and so I accepted the compliment and the job.

It's a job I enjoy a lot

Fast-forward a year, not only has "the porn," as my mom calls it, been one of my most consistent gigs, but it competes for the most enjoyable and purposeful.

Unfortunately, my mom cannot understand its significance beyond sin. "God is watching," she says. I remember her preaching the same thing to my teenage self when she'd call a family meeting after reviewing my brother's browser history or walking in on me masturbating.

She is not naive and always spoke honestly about sex, using the most humiliating moment from my childhood as a reason to give us condoms and remind us to lock the door. But her prude nature is derived from her perspective that intimacy should happen solely between a couple. In other words, she's a romantic to the grave.

I don't blame her for believing that the adult-entertainment industry is evil.

Her upbringing by strict Catholic nuns doesn't help, nor does the mainstream media. A lifetime of stigma hinders her judgment. I'm reminded that my family saw men who have sex with men as unusual, until I became one of them.

Regardless, she respects my decisions but promises never to stop voicing her opinion. And I'll never stop listening to her guidance, because every opportunity I achieve, even those she rejects, is possible because of her resilience and determination as a single immigrant parent.

Perhaps I carry some of that stigma, too, for constantly clarifying that I would never participate in the filming. After all, there's nothing shameful about an honest living.

The job that my family warned might limit my career has introduced me to script writing — maybe one day for television. But that doesn't mean I need to leave "the porn" behind just yet.