And I, who make such a big deal of community-building, am not immune to gazing upon others? perversions and wondering. I freely admit that I don?t understand…
There are two things about the BDSM community ? apart from the snappy leather outfits ? that I?m positive everyone in the larger Canadian society could benefit from. I?m so darn sure of this that I?d like you to clip this article and give it to some non-kinky person.
460 words, August 2005
If he?d been exposed to the real-life pansexual leather community as a young adult, would he have understood about the importance of informed consent?
Over a decade ago, as I lovingly peeled my smiling, limp girlfriend off a rack in a public dungeon after a particularly intense flogging scene at a Muffs ?n? Cuffs party, some woman marched up to me and brandished a shiny new riding crop in my face.
Okay, people; I’m sick of it being a conversational subtext. Let’s get it out in the open.
Once, wondering what might happen, I attended a pansexual play party in white cotton sneakers and grey sweats, naked-faced with my hair casually ponytailed. At the party, leatherclad people actually came to me and asked me if I was okay, as if I?d dropped by the play party on my way back from the hospital after an appendectomy or something.
Do we get a choice of 12 peers for a jury and do we suffer arguments about who are really our peers? Like: “Those leather boys are okay, but the PVC crowd, whoa, no way.”
One expressed a thought that keeping out the newbies should be a priority in any serious leather group. Others chimed in. Newcomers are dabblers. They?re socially clumsy. They don?t know how to play. And they don?t have the right outfits.
Don’t try to be the one-stop erotic shopper. You’ll do better making friends than you will be searching for your One True Pervert. It’s just good math.
Bondage aficionados tie knots. So do sailors, and those strange folks who make a hobby of macrame. Rodeo stars use a rope lasso for flying takedowns, although they don’t ask permission from the cows….
When someone coughs up twaddle about BDSM equalling violence and abuse, or implies that the happy sexual thrills I seek with my lovers could be linked with the insanity that makes a disturbed man round up fourteen innocent women and shoot them, I have to blink at it for a bit to make it come into focus. Eh, what? Oh. This again.
I’m talking about a physical, social, or emotional danger far above and beyond what I’d consider a playful scene.
“…Can I pretend to be your bottom? So that woman over there will leave me alone? She keeps saying I’m a cute brat, and that I deserve to be spanked, and she’s the dom to do it. I don’t want her to spank me, but? she’s a top!”
(Published Oct 14, 2004)
A brat is a grownup who plays, playfully, with resistance. I’ve spoken with lots of other tops–both in regular life, and during my brat play workshops–on the subject of bratty bottoms and I’m always puzzled to hear how annoying many find the little darlings.
I must have been in an especially literal mood that day, because when a vanilla acquaintance of mine asked me why leatherfolk like to spank each other, and why leatherfolk might be found being spanked, and why do us people wear leather, anyhow?I answered her with the utter truth.