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Taking
BDSM out of the Bedroom – My approach to the lifestyle as an
orientation and not just a sexual practice (not that there’s anything
wrong with that)
By
Sensuous Sadie
SensuousSadie@aol.com
www.sensuoussadie.com
People confuse sexuality with sex.
~ Gil Grissom, from the television show CSI
A while back I had lunch with my good friend Alden. He’s a vanilla guy,
but he knows about my orientation to all things leather. Over stuffed
portabella mushrooms I mentioned that I was not dating anyone because I
was still recovering from my last relationship. "But you’re still doing
that… you know, kinky stuff aren’t you?" he asked. At this he waggled
his hand to indicate that kinky stuff (he probably couldn’t remember the
word BDSM). "I told you," I said again, "I’m not dating," but he just
stared at me, confused. Alden had assumed that because I was involved in
an alternative lifestyle, I must be having wild sex with some new
stranger every weekend. By making my involvement with BDSM only about
casual sex, Alden was "sexualizing" me. This means that he put me in a
little box labeled "kinky sex" and took away all the other things that
the leather lifestyle has brought into my life. Things like the men I
have loved: Griffin and Moby. Things like my writing, which is my
calling. Things like my community of friends. As you can imagine, this
pisses me off big-time.
Sexualizing people is one way that dominant groups in a culture (no pun
intended) deal with their fear of people doing things they don’t like or
don’t understand. For example, when people think of lesbians and gays,
they focus on which body part is doing what to whom. By sexualizing
lesbians and gays, they can pretend that those "homo's" are not our
sisters and brothers, mothers and fathers. They can pretend that these
people do not have to raise children, deal with aging parents, or pay
the mortgage. This is why my friend Alia has encountered the question
"But what do you lesbians DO in bed?" so many times. Asking such silly
questions may suggest a lack of imagination, but more importantly it
reduces Alia’s entire life experience to whether or not she had sexual
intercourse. As you can imagine, this pisses her off big-time.
Alia explained to me that being lesbian is not just something she does
in the bedroom, it’s about economics and culture and family. To
illustrate this, she reminded me that she has a son with her partner.
This child of a two-mommy family is living with a reality that is
inextricably engaged with the fact that she is a lesbian. It affects her
son’s identity and his perspective about the world. It has very real
implications for the kinds of choices he makes in his friends and what
kinds of things he does with his life.
Alia’s mother Carol, on the other hand, says she can live with the
lesbian thing, but she’d really rather that Alia not flaunt it. Carol
would rather if Alia maybe just kept the "lifestyle choice" a little
more quiet, maybe put that "Heather has Two Mommies" book away
when guests drop by. Carol is not unlike the people who rail at the gay
community during gay pride parades for "flaunting it." Carol and those
complainers are just not getting it. It’s not a matter of flaunting it
or not flaunting it, it is simply that being lesbian is not a hobby that
can be put away when it’s inconvenient. It is an orientation that
affects Alia’s experience at every level. It can’t be hidden any more
than being Hispanic or blonde or green-eyed can be hidden. Nor should it
be.
Being as I’m not a lesbian, you might ask why I’m yammering on about the
challenges they deal with. The fact is, the obstacles that Alia faces
are the same ones that we in the BDSM community face, both on the
personal and on the political level. Let me illustrate this with a story
from my own life. Recently I moved to a new home, and for the first time
I decided to put my collection of kink-themed books (including my own of
course) on the bookcase with the rest of the mysteries, spirituality
books, and Calvin & Hobbes collections. I took this risk because
I don’t have a lot of guests and the few I do have know about my
lifestyle.
I mentioned this to my friend Susan, and we got into a conversation that
we’d had many times. Susan would not put her books or any paraphernalia
in public view because she considers her sexual practice a private
thing. She only tells people on a need-to-know basis and she is careful
to protect her privacy, even within the community. Susan comments on
this, "Yes, it's a personal thing that we want to keep private, but it's
also about guest comfort. I wouldn't have a copy of the Kama Sutra
prominently displayed on the bookcase in the living room either. People
just don't want to hear about your sex life. It's not because they're in
denial about it, but because it's personal. I don't want to hear about
my friend's vanilla sex any more than they want to hear about mine
(vanilla or otherwise). It's not we're embarrassed about our interest or
feel dirty or wrong about it, it's just personal - just like you
wouldn't necessarily keep a removed appendix or tonsil on the mantel."
While I am just as careful to protect my privacy, I feel that it’s
important to share our lifestyle with vanilla people. The reason I do
this is because secrets create fear, which forces us to lie and hurt the
people we love. I believe that by educating people both inside and
outside of the leather lifestyle, we create an environment of
acceptance, a place where we can just be. Putting my books out in
the livingroom makes this statement in a small way. Now I consider
myself a moderate, and there are many people in the community who are
far more out than I am. These are people who are activists and who use
their real name. Susan disagrees with this approach however, saying, "I
can't help but think that most folks who are out, unless they're like
John Warren [author of The Loving Dominant] and making a living
out of it, are being out more to buck the system and be a rebel than to
actually help educate the masses to accept those of us in the community.
Nine times out of ten, we are accepted; it's just that our
coworkers, neighbors, family, friends, etc. simply don't want to know
more than 'they like kinky sex.' And even that's more than they want to
know most of the time." Obviously I disagree with Susan, although there
is some merit to her argument that we are accepted to the degree that we
accept ourselves. The part where I separate from Susan is that I believe
we have to take that accepting of ourselves to the next step and show it
in pride – I don't believe that we are accepted so broadly yet, and
that's shows by the challenges people in our community face with losing
their jobs, custody of their children, and even having their BDSM
practice used against them in divorce settlements. Yes these are all
real stories from real people I know personally. It's not necessary to
do it by being completely out though. I choose not to go this path
because I am a deeply private person and I do not want to be a banner
carrier; I prefer to be an activist in my own quiet way.
There is another important way in which Susan and I differ in our
approach. For Susan, BDSM is primarily something she enjoys with her
husband in the bedroom and sometimes at events. It’s not a "lifestyle"
because the rest of the time they are a married couple like any other,
with a wide variety of interests from snow shoeing to swing dancing. You
could say that for her, BDSM is primarily a sexual practice, perhaps one
of several. While I am similar to Susan in that my actual practice
happens in the bedroom, for me it is much more of an orientation, not
unlike Alia being lesbian. I am engaged in thinking about the lifestyle
in a conscious and active way, at least in part because I write about
it. It affects how I spend my weekends, who I choose as a partner, my
spiritual path, and so many more things.
It also affects who I am in another almost indefinable way. Being
collared allows me feel safe and express myself in uncommon ways. It’s
not that I feel unsafe or that I am inhibited, but rather that having
that structure gives me a window to explore places that are simply not
available when only relating to myself. It's more than just the
difference between being in a relationship and being single. The
experience is like when I experimented with Blue Microchip (a
hallucinogen like LSD) when I was in college. During this experience, I
observed what you might call a secondary reality, perhaps a "door of
perception" as Timothy Leary called it. Visually it was like a slight
double vision, where I could simultaneously see the object at a slightly
different angle, both literally and figuratively. Seeing that slightly
alternative view of reality quite simply, changed everything.
I want to share these things with my friends because if I hide half of
my identity, they will never know me for who I really am.
Here’s the thing. My approach is one of many, as is Susan’s. This isn’t
about putting us into neatly labeled boxes as it is trying to give an
idea of the spectrum of people in the lifestyle. What saddens me most is
that Alden cannot see the larger picture of who I am. Although he knows
about my lifestyle – at least in theory - he cannot know all of me
because of that box he put around me. That is a great loss, but one that
hopefully, I’m changing by putting my books out on the bookcase.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sensuous Sadie is the author of It's Not About the Whip: Love, Sex,
and Spirituality in the BDSM Scene. Read an excerpt at http://www.trafford.com/robots/03-0551.html
She is the founder and leader (1999 - 2001) of Rose & Thorn,
Vermont's first BDSM group. Comments, compliments and complaints, as
well as requests for reprinting can be addressed to her at SensuousSadie@aol.com
or visit her website at www.sensuoussadie.com.
Sadie believes the universe is abundant, and that sharing information
freely is part of this abundance, so she allows reprints of her writing
in most venues.
Copyright 2004 Sadie Sez Publications
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