What Others Are Saying About
The S&M Feminist
* * *
"I wish we could make it so everyone buying a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey would also
buy Clarisse Thorn's The S&M Feminist."
~ A.V. Flox, editor of BlogHer's Love & Sex section
"Clarisse isn't afraid to talk about her own experiences with BDSM, relationships, and
sexual politics. But she's also not afraid to explore some of the issues around consent,
violence, and safety that a lot of the kink cheerleaders would like to sweep under the rug.
She brings a refreshing honesty to her writing that is often lacking. Add to that a deep
commitment to feminism and sex-positivity, and you have an amazing combination.
"The tension between kink and feminism is a tough one to hold onto and most people end
up firmly in one camp or the other. What makes Clarisse's writing phenomenal is her
steadfast refusal to avoid doing that. The clarity with which she discusses both sides
without resorting to caricatures or stereotypes is simultaneously inspiring and
challenging. If you're interested in either or both, I can't recommend her enough."
~ Charlie Glickman, educator at the classic feminist sex store Good Vibrations
* * *
* * *
* * *
The S&M Feminist:
Best of Clarisse Thorn
* * *
Clarisse Thorn
Smashwords Edition
* * *
clarissethorn.com
@ClarisseThorn
* * *
This ebook is copyright 2012 Clarisse Thorn. I certainly have mixed feelings about
modern copyright law... but I've put an enormous amount of time and effort into my
writing. So I ask you to please respect my time and effort, and observe copyright laws as
they apply to this ebook. If you would like to share this book with another person, please
purchase a new copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase
it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Also,
check out the Electronic Frontier Foundation at [ http://eff.org ], a nonprofit that protects
free speech on the Internet and does lots of awesome work around copyright issues.
Cover image copyright 2002 Clarisse Thorn.
* * *
* * *
* * *
Also check out Clarisse's awesome book
Confessions of a Pickup Artist Chaser!
* * *
There's a huge subculture of men who trade tips, tricks, and tactics for seducing women.
Clarisse Thorn, a feminist S&M writer and activist, spent years researching these guys.
She observed their discussions, watched them in action, and learned their strategies. By
the end, she'd given a lecture at a seduction convention. This is her story -- and her
theories about feminism and seduction to boot.
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/144451
In paperback: https://www.createspace.com/3830583
* * *
* * *
* * *
Notes, Acknowledgments and Resources
* * *
I had a privileged upbringing. My education and safety nets are the biggest reasons I'm
able to do the work that I do, and I try not to forget that. I have been blessed with parents,
friends, and lovers who have supported me both emotionally and intellectually. Since this
is a "Best Of" my blog, I want to particularly acknowledge the commenters who have
contributed their perspective to my blog, and the other bloggers who have responded to
me and cross-posted my work. There are too many to name, but thank you all so much.
Special thanks to Brenda Errichiello, a guerrilla editor-for-hire. Brenda has been very
generous and helpful to me; errors and weirdness in this book should be blamed on me
and not her, because a lot of the time she tries to convince me to fix things and I refuse
out of writerly arrogance. If you need editing for your self-published ebook (and you do),
then you should totally contact her. Her website is [ http://www.bee-editing.com/ ].
I try to keep my writing as accessible as possible. One way I do that is by avoiding jargon
and by using terms that I think most people will recognize. I often write "S&M" instead
of "BDSM," for example; and when I'm using technical S&M language like "top" or
"bottom" or "scene," I try to define the words as I go along. But sometimes I slip into
jargon by accident. Also, plenty of S&M terms are super useful, and giving a quick
overview of S&M language can go a long way towards describing S&M culture. Hence, I
have included a Glossary at the end of this book. Many of the terms in the Glossary aren't
terms that I use in this book, but you might find it useful or interesting anyway. (I also
included a few terms that come from other subcultures, such as polyamory or queer
studies.)
I've received a lot of feedback over the years informing me that I'm the "gateway drug"
into feminism for some readers. That's kind of cool, but I want to make it clear that if
you're just now getting into feminism, there's lots of other stuff to learn before you draw
any conclusions. Feminism is a huge, varied, rich movement with lots of history, schisms,
and discontents. Also, in case it needs to be said, I'm not the only feminist who does
S&M. There are others, some of whom love my work and some of whom disagree with
me frequently.
One advantage of the blog format, as opposed to more traditional formats, is that each
post can contain tons of hyperlinks -- and each article has comment space, so there can be
fascinating discussions that explore each topic more deeply. (Of course, there can also be
silly, boring, or offensive discussions.) As soon as a blog becomes moderately successful,
it develops its own community of regular commenters, and mine is no exception.
Facilitating and moderating these discussions can be amazingly fun and interesting. It can
also be stressful and exhausting. As a commenter community evolves, it shapes how
other people read the blog's articles and comment on them; sometimes the community
will develop norms or tendencies that make certain people feel more comfortable -- or
less comfortable. I've tried to control this with my blog so that it's a welcoming
environment for most people, but I have such a diverse range of commenters that it's
sometimes quite difficult.
I bring all this up because, if you're intrigued by some of the articles you read in this
book, I encourage you to check out the original post. In this book, I've made a lot of
hyperlinks into footnotes, but not all of them. More importantly, if you look at the
original post, you can read the comments. But my commenter community has changed
over time. Sometimes it's more feminist, for example, and sometimes it's less feminist. So
just be aware, if you read the comments, that the range of opinions may not reflect any
group that would assemble elsewhere on the planet; that a different community might
produce really different comments; and that other articles might have really different
discussions.
You can buy this book in paperback form at CreateSpace:
https://www.createspace.com/3878670
If you've already read my incredibly awesome book Confessions of a Pickup Artist
Chaser, then thank you! (Bonus points if you can pick out all the parts of Confessions
that I pulled verbatim from articles included in this book.) If you haven't read
Confessions, then please check that out, too.
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/144451
Paperback copies of Confessions: https://www.createspace.com/3830583
I powered this ebook almost entirely with my own strangely obsessive energy, so you can
blame me for any mistakes. If you find coding errors, broken internal links, or whatever,
then I invite you to email me and let me know so I can update the file! I'm available at
clarisse.thorn@gmail.com.
This is version 1.2 of The S&M Feminist. The resource list, glossary, and formatting
have all been updated.
* * *
BDSM Resources
BDSM is a 6-for-4 deal of an acronym that stands for Bondage, Discipline, Dominance,
Submission, Sadism, and/or Masochism. Some people call it S&M, B&D, leather, fetish,
or kink. BDSM can mean very different things to different people, and there are a lot of
activities that can fall under the BDSM umbrella; such activities might include spanking,
Master/slave role-playing, handcuffs, cages, rape fantasies, razor blades, or all kinds of
other things.
I mention a lot of resources in the articles that I've included in this book, but I wanted to
include an overview at the beginning, too.
Hands down, I believe that one of the most important resources within the BDSM
community is the Kink Aware Professionals list. If you are seeking medical, legal or
other professional help for a problem that is influenced by alternative sexuality, there is
probably someone on the list who can help you. When I was going through my own
complicated and difficult BDSM coming-out process, I tried two therapists from the KAP
list. One of them didn't really get me, but the second was wonderfully helpful -- so, if
you're looking for a therapist, don't be afraid to shop around until you find the right fit.
The list is here: https://ncsfreedom.org/resources/kink-aware-professionals-directory/kapdirectory-homepage.html
Want more information on how BDSM interfaces with the psychiatric establishment?
I've compiled the research here: http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2012/05/07/thepsychology-of-sm/
Books
In 2012, the legendary educator Tristan Taormino released The Ultimate Guide To Kink:
BDSM, Role Play and the Erotic Edge, which is supposed to be amazing. I haven't read it
myself, though.
My personal favorite beginner BDSM books are The New Topping Book and The New
Bottoming Book, by Dossie Easton and Janet W. Hardy. If you look for those books on
Amazon.com, you will also see a lot of interesting related books in the "Customers Who
Bought This Item Also Bought" section. I remember liking Jay Wiseman's SM101,
although I know some people who have mixed feelings about it; a number of people
recommend Screw The Roses, Send Me The Thorns by Philip Miller and Molly Devon,
but I've never read it myself.
If you're thinking of coming out to a loved one, I recommend the book When Someone
You Love Is Kinky by Dossie Easton and Catherine W. Liszt. I've also heard good things
about the "Parents of Alternative Sexuality" pamphlet by Dr. Amy Marsh.
If you, like me, are particularly attracted to the idea of needle piercing, there's a great
book called Play Piercing by Deborah Addington.
If you're more interested in getting a feel for common BDSM philosophies and what the
BDSM community is like -- an anthropological perspective, one might say -- then there's
a book by Mark Thompson called Leatherfolk, and a newer one by Staci Newmahr called
Playing at the Edge.
Well-known feminist BDSM theory authors from the generation ahead of me include Pat
Califia and Gayle Rubin, who are both brilliant.
Online
I usually direct total newbies to this BDSM 101 page by Franklin Veaux:
http://www.xeromag.com/fvbdsm.html
As it happens, the same writer has a good Polyamory 101, too: http://www.xeromag.com/
fvpoly.html
There are a lot of websites on BDSM, and they aren't all carefully edited or moderated; so
if you can manage it, then I suggest you try to get hold of one of the above how-to books.
That said... overall, one of the best online BDSM resources is FetLife.com, the kinky
social networking site. Once you have an account, you can join a huge variety of
discussion groups about BDSM. FetLife is not a dating site; it's more like a kinky
Facebook (seriously). I think that there are important problems with how FetLife is
structured. For example, there's no way to search for past topics, which is ridiculous; this
means that the research process for finding discussions is incredibly weird. The BDSM
activist maymay has written intelligently about many issues with FetLife:
http://maybemaimed.com/2011/03/20/fetlife-considered-harmful/
But the fact remains that FetLife is a huge gathering place.
Another good online resource is the amazing sex education site Scarleteen.com.
Scarleteen offers a ton of advice on a ton of sexual topics, and has its own message
boards.
The site KinkAcademy.com has received some good reviews, and features video tutorials
by some people who are pretty well-known in the community. You have to buy a
membership, though.
The BDSM writer Ranai from Germany has labored long and hard to make an amazingly
comprehensive, international, multilingual directory of kink resources. I haven't gone
through it extensively, but every time Ranai comments on my blog she's brilliant, so I'm
sure her directory is brilliant too. Here's the directory: http://ranai.wordpress.com/kinkresources/
There are so many BDSM blogs that I could never count them all. I want to direct special
attention to Kink Research Overviews, an abandoned but still excellent blog that profiles
the sparse and scattershot research on BDSM: http://kinkresearch.blogspot.com/2009/10/
welcome-to-kink-research.html
In 2012, Bitch Magazine ran a series called "Thinking Kink" by Catherine Scott, which
examines S&M and culture from a feminist perspective:
http://www.allthatchas.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/all-of-my-thinking-kink-posts-forbitch.html
In Person
If you've decided that you want to start attending workshops, discussion groups, parties,
or other BDSM events in person, please keep in mind that not everyone is going to mesh
well with their local BDSM groups. If you don't like your local BDSM group, then don't
force yourself to participate! That said, I generally encourage people to get into their
local community, because it truly can be an amazing resource -- it's way more than just a
place to meet partners.
If you make an account on FetLife, you may be able to join groups for your area (for
example, if you live in Chicago, then you should look for Chicago groups), where local
issues or events will be discussed and publicized.
For those aged 18-35, many major cities have branches of The Next Generation, a.k.a. the
local "kinky youth group."
Otherwise, just Google around. It's much easier these days than it was for our parents.
* * *
This resource list can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/bdsm-resources/
* * *
* * *
* * *
Table of Contents
* * *
Here's a link to go back to The Very Beginning.
And here's a link to the Glossary.
Throughout this book, footnotes will look like links in the text. Click the link to go to the
footnote. At the end of each footnote I've included a backlink to the context you came
from.
I write both personal narratives and cultural analysis. Almost all my writing mixes the
two, but most of my pieces incline more towards one than the other. Accordingly, I've
tagged all the articles in this book as either [storytime] or [theory].
* * *
SECTION 1:
The Basics
In which we explore the foundations of S&M, feminism, and sex-positive feminism.
* * *
S&M [storytime]: Love Bites: An S&M Coming-Out Story
* * *
Education [theory]: Liberal, Sex-Positive Sex Education: What's Missing
* * *
Communication [theory]: Sex Communication Tactic Derived From S&M: The
Annotated Safeword
* * *
Communication [theory]: Sex Communication Tactic Derived From S&M: Checklists
* * *
Communication [theory]: Sex Communication Tactic Derived From S&M: Journal-
Keeping
* * *
Communication [storytime]: Sex Communication Case Studies
* * *
Feminism [theory]: Towards My Personal Sex-Positive Feminist 101
* * *
S&M [theory]: S&M Superpowers
* * *
S&M [theory]: BDSM Can Be "Love Sex" Too
* * *
S&M [theory]: Body Chemistry and S&M
* * *
S&M [theory]: Going Under
* * *
Orgasmic "Dysfunction" [storytime]: A Unified Theory of Orgasm
* * *
Boundaries [storytime]: I'm Not Your Sex-Crazy Nympho Dreamgirl
* * *
Boundaries [storytime]: Orgasms Aren't My Favorite Part of Sex, and My Chastity Urge
* * *
Boundaries [theory]: Anger, Fear and Pain
* * *
Evolution [theory]: Sexual Openness: Two Ways To Encourage It
* * *
Relationships [storytime]: Fear, Loathing and S&M Sluthood in San Francisco
* * *
S&M [theory]: BDSM As A Sexual Orientation, and Complications of the Orientation
Model
* * *
S&M [theory]: BDSM "versus" Sex
* * *
S&M [theory]: BDSM Roles, "Topping From The Bottom," and "Service Top"
* * *
Feminism [theory]: "Inherent Female Submission": The Wrong Question
* * *
Manliness [theory]: Fifty Shades of Grey, Fight Club, and the Complications of Male
Dominance
* * *
Abuse [theory]: The Alt Sex Anti-Abuse Dream Team
* * *
Section 1 Study Guide
* * *
SECTION 2:
Activism and Allies
In which we explore activism and other topics tangentially related to S&M feminism --
from sex work, to community organizing, to the nature of masculinity.
* * *
Activism [theory]: Grassroots Organizing For Feminism, S&M, HIV, and Everything
Else
* * *
Activism [storytime]: Interview with Richard Berkowitz, Star of Sex Positive and Icon of
Safer Sex Activism
* * *
Abuse [theory]: Social Responsibility Within Activism
* * *
Boundaries [storytime]: Taking Care Of Each Other
* * *
Manliness [theory]: Questions I Want To Ask Entitled Cis Het Men
* * *
Education [theory]: Sexual ABCs in Africa, Part 1: Abstinence
* * *
Education [theory]: Sexual ABCs in Africa, Part 2: Be Faithful
* * *
Education [theory]: Sexual ABCs in Africa, Part 3: Condoms
* * *
Activism [theory]: Colonized Libidos
* * *
Vegan [theory]: Confections of a Pickup Artist Chaser
* * *
Polyamory [theory]: In Praise of Monogamy
* * *
Polyamory [theory]: My Top Questions About Dealing With Multiple Lovers
* * *
Sex Work [storytime]: One Blurred Edge of Sex Work: Portrait of a Sugar Baby
* * *
Sex Work [theory]: A Sugar Baby Leaves The Business
* * *
Section 2 Study Guide
* * *
SECTION 3:
Making It Complicated
In which we really get into it.
* * *
Relationships [storytime]: Chemistry
* * *
S&M [theory]: Start From A Position of Strength
* * *
S&M [storytime]: Predicament Bondage
* * *
Relationships [theory]: Relationship Tools: Monogamy, Polyamory, Competition, and
Jealousy
* * *
Evolution [storytime]: You Don't Always Know What You're Thinking
* * *
Abuse [theory]: Thinking More Clearly About BDSM versus Abuse
* * *
Communication [theory]: What Happens After An S&M Encounter "Gone Wrong"
* * *
S&M [theory]: Aftercare or Brainwashing?
* * *
Communication [theory]: Feminist S&M Lessons From the Seduction Community
* * *
S&M [storytime]: The Strange Binary of Dominance and Submission
* * *
Feminism [storytime]: My Mom's Rape Story, and A Confused Relationship with
Feminism
* * *
Section 3 Study Guide
* * *
About The Author
* * *
Clarisse's Lectures, Workshops and Events
* * *
Footnotes
* * *
Glossary
* * *
* * *
* * *
SECTION 1:
The Basics
In which we explore the foundations of S&M, feminism, and sex-positive feminism.
* * *
When I think of this section, I think of:
If you're afraid of pain, you have to find out what pain is.
~ Marina Abramovic
I'd like to thank all the brave pioneers of the BDSM community, for exploring the reaches
of human sexuality, and coming back with maps.
~ an unsourced quotation offered by one of my blog commenters
* * *
* * *
* * *
S&M:
[storytime] Love Bites: An S&M Coming-Out Story
The events of this story took place between 2005-2008; I wrote it in fits and starts over
the span of 2006-2008. I started blogging as Clarisse Thorn in 2008, but my coming-out
story wasn't published until early 2010, when Time Out Chicago picked it up. I look over
this piece today, in 2012, and I think about what I would have written differently if I'd
had the hyper-focused feminist sex educator instincts that I have now. I would have
written differently about consent, and I would have written differently about the
communication that happened with my partners about my consent. I would have talked
about how the S&M subculture isn't always welcoming for everybody, though it feels
welcoming for me. Plus, I'm no longer practicing monogamy; I'm polyamorous these
days.
But at the time, my goal was to do two things: (1) write out how S&M stigma felt for me,
as a young feminist, and to talk about how I was overcoming it. And (2) show that
sometimes a partner just isn't good for you, even if he has a quality that you really really
want -- and you can always walk away.
* * *
Love Bites: An S&M Coming-Out Story
I was very drunk. My perceptions had a frame-by-frame quality, and the evening didn't
seem immediate: pieces of it were foreign, disconnected as a dream. I was being bitten
very hard on the arm. It would leave marks the next day.
I was so muddled by assorted things that even now I can't sort out how I felt at that
moment. When Richard's nails scored my skin I gasped, but I didn't ask him to stop. I
flinched away, but he kept a firm grip on me. "Beg for mercy," he said softly.
Frame. Skip. I discovered that a mutual friend of ours had seen us, stopped, and was
sitting on the grass across from Richard. "Hey," he said. "You shouldn't do that."
"It's okay," Richard said, "she likes it," and pulled my hair hard enough to force me to
bow my head. I do? I managed to think, before thought vanished back into the blur of
alcohol and pain. Our friend's face loomed over me, concern sketched vividly on his
features.
I closed my eyes.
"Mercy," I whispered.
* * *
Later, Richard reminded me of something I said that night: "I wish I'd met you years
ago." Thinking hard, I could only recall the evening in broad strokes. We'd gotten drunk
at an outdoor party; he'd hurt me a bit; I'd said that; and then I'd staggered off to help
clean up.
"A lot of crap comes out when you do this stuff," he now said. A few weeks had passed. I
was lying on my stomach across the foot of his bed. Sitting perpendicular to me, he
leaned back and propped his feet on the small of my back. Thin and pale, he tended to
wear black, and had intense dark eyes. It was summer in 2005. I was twenty years old.
He'd asked me why I wanted to be hurt. I couldn't work out an answer -- wasn't certain
the question was valid -- so I asked him why he liked to hurt people. He'd half-laughed,
with a tone that I couldn't evaluate. Ruefully? "That's a long, dark road," he'd said.
"How do you know?" I asked, irritated by his presumption, nervously curious. I wasn't
sure I was what he thought I was -- wasn't sure what had been going on that night,
beyond alcohol dulling my reactions and feelings. But I knew I hadn't been abused or
violated. I hadn't asked him to stop, and I wanted to figure out why. "How did you know
about me?"
"I can tell," he said, and grinned. "With you, it was obvious." He paused, added quietly,
"You were begging for it."
A couple of hours later, we remained fully clothed, my face was buried in his pillow, and
I was crying. He'd pinned me down so I couldn't move, and was raking his nails across
what was exposed of my tank-topped back. When Richard first spotted the tears, he'd
asked if I wanted a break. I'd said that it was okay, that he should continue, that I was
fine.
I felt myself fragmenting, desperation and terror and pain pouring through me in an
unbearable, necessary torrent. I told myself over and over that it didn't hurt that much, but
I couldn't stop myself from tensing, crying out. After a while, I found myself saying,
"No."
I felt him check himself, shifting his weight from my back. "Can we clarify something?"
he asked gently. "Do you really want me to stop when you say no?"
No, I realized, I don't, and something vital in my psyche seemed to snap. The tears
overwhelmed me. I couldn't get an answer out through my sobs, but even if I could have,
I haven't the faintest idea what I might have said.
"We should take a break," he decided, and moved away. I'll never forget the relief -- and
desolation -- I felt as he did.
* * *
It was a long time later that I remembered: I had met someone like Richard, years before.
It had been in spring 2003; the guy was thin and pale, dressing mainly in black. I hadn't
once thought of him in a romantic light.
I'd counted him a friend, but had only been alone with him once. We were in his living
room, seated next to each other on dun-colored carpet. I couldn't recall how it started --
we'd been sitting playing video games? had he tickled me as I shouted invective at the
screen? -- but it ended with him holding my wrists, me lying back on the floor and
wondering how to get him off me.
I'd thought he might kiss me, so I turned my head away. Instead, he bit my neck. "No," I
said aloud, more in startlement than anything else, and he gave me a searching look -- as
if he wasn't sure I was serious. "Please let me up," I said, and he asked, "Why?"
I didn't feel panicked, but strangely at a loss: he didn't seem to take my objection
seriously. Yet he wasn't particularly threatening me, and I wasn't afraid. I explained that I
was in a committed, monogamous relationship I didn't want to disrupt; I carefully didn't
react when he bit me again, although it hurt.
I didn't say I wasn't getting anything out of my powerlessness or his apparent desire to
hurt me, that it left me cold. Maybe I wasn't sure it would register: he hadn't appeared to
believe me when I first told him to let me up. And maybe something in me agreed that
such a response was incorrect.
Eventually, I got away. Stupidly, confused, I mentioned the incident to my boyfriend. Of
course he was furious; I had to calm him. For my part, it hadn't occurred to me to be mad.
That didn't feel as bizarre as it sounds -- on some level, I felt that the whole incident was
reasonable, even if it hadn't turned out to be what I wanted.
Not then. Not with him.
* * *
After I cried my heart out in his bed, Richard was very kind. He brought me a glass of
water and listened as I said a lot of bewildered things. When I finally ran down, it was
late; he invited me to sleep over, but didn't put the moves on me. The next morning, he
told me he had work to do. Straightforwardly, I asked when I could see him again. He
smiled, said to email him, that we'd work something out.
The next few days -- weeks -- time, I don't know; however long it was, it felt like being
put through a shredder. I couldn't think about anything but that night and how, through
my turmoil and tears, I'd found a kind of exultation. I had been sober, prepared and clearheaded.
I couldn't find a way around the brutal, uncompromising revelation that
apparently, I wanted nothing more than to be subordinated, used, hurt. I actually wanted
to be a victim.
I wanted to talk to someone, but wasn't sure how to frame my words. I was positive it
would help to talk to Richard, but he was busy, and busy, and busy. I had a number of
friends who I suspected were into hardcore BDSM; I could have called any of them. But
it was one thing to be fine with other people doing it, and quite another to discover such a
desire in myself. In another situation, I would have thoroughly deconstructed my obvious
double standard -- but just then, it was a minor irrationality on top of one big chunk of
insanity.
I considered asking my loving, liberal parents for advice and tried to imagine how it
would go.
Mom. Dad. I love you, and I'm so sorry. I know you've tried to give me an independent,
rational, feminist outlook, as well as self-esteem and integrity. Sadly, none of this
appears to have taken; I guess I'm a broken mockery of everything you tried to instill. I
don't want you to worry, or blame yourselves, but have you any advice on where to go
from here?
No.
* * *
My mental images of that summer are hazy with remembered anger. As Richard
remained occupied, I felt fury building within my fascination. I'm sure I felt like the
classical woman spurned: he was nice enough when he ran into me and told me he was
there to talk if I needed it, but the evidence contradicted his words. For weeks after that
night, if I tried to see him he didn't have time.
It didn't help that he reacted very badly when I went after him aggressively -- too
aggressively, I knew, but couldn't help it -- and told him honestly how vulnerable I was.
He backed off fast, leaving me more confused than ever. (Though not too confused to
think: How stereotypical.)
It went beyond being a woman spurned, though. Especially since I believed,
intellectually, that he didn't owe it to me not to be busy. He wasn't required to sort me
out. And -- since it seemed to be what I was after -- he wasn't obligated to continue
hurting me. We'd just met, after all.
It was more that I was enraged by how desperately I wanted to be hurt -- and infuriated
that someone, anyone, could have such power over me. I had always thrown myself into
infatuations; like most people, I'd been known to get angry at the object of my affections.
But this was different. Not only was I infatuated, I was aching for something I couldn't
reconcile. Even if Richard had been the perfect counselor I had no right to expect, I might
have hated him. As it was, I felt toyed with, and found as many other reasons to dislike
him as I could. As long as I could focus on wrath, I didn't have to think about my other
feelings.
It kept me from falling apart.
He was away for most of the summer. I went to a few trusted friends for reassurance and
validation; giving few details, I allowed my anger to calcify. But Richard ended up
surprising me. On a visit to Chicago, he called me every night for a week. The bruises he
left took weeks to fade, some of them bleeding and leaving scars. I raged as I covered the
worst of them -- but felt also a low-burning fulfillment. One close friend, Andrew, caught
sight of a bruise on my leg and cast me a worried look. "That looks pretty bad," he
observed, and I could only say, "Yes."
By then, I'd well and truly internalized the belief that Richard didn't want to deal with
emotional vulnerability, and my furious resentment remained. This feeling was not
helped by society in general; men hate emotions, right? Still, the more time I spent with
him, the more I had to admit that he made an effort to be sensitive. Most of our failures to
understand each other came from how different our relationship paradigms were, not to
mention my unevenly-repressed identity crisis. I know I tried to warn Richard that I
wasn't doing well at expressing myself and that what I thought, or felt, or believed I was
might change on short notice; but I doubt I got even that concept across.
He identified fairly publicly as a BDSMer, and made it clear that he considered me
superficial and cowardly because I was unsure about doing so myself. He was also
polyamorous, a lifestyle that I had some experience with -- but though I respected others'
choices to engage in it, I'd decided against polyamory for myself. It felt strange to draw
the parallel, but it was somewhat like dealing with a difficult boyfriend. Still, I didn't
trust him, and our relationship didn't particularly involve sex.
Just pain.
Towards the end of one night, wan light filtering through my curtains, Richard inquired
unexpectedly, "Are you happy with the way we are now?"
"What do you mean?" I temporized, sighing inwardly. Now I'd have to come up with a
rational, coherent answer that would satisfy him. In those days, rationality and coherence
felt like improbable dreams.
Richard explained that he hadn't particularly been satisfied with how he'd dealt with me
before he left, but hadn't had time for anything better. Now, he thought the situation was
"healthier." "What do you want from this?" he asked seriously.
I want the strength to walk away from you, I thought unclearly. I want you to actually
care about me. I never want to see you again. I hugged my arms to myself, resting my
hands gingerly on swelling skin. "Um," I said slowly, "nothing in particular?" I took a
breath and gathered the one overriding fact: I want you to keep hurting me. "I don't expect
anything from you," I told him, "and I don't want you to expect anything from me."
I knew from his smile that my answer was the right one. I could only hope it was
accurate.
* * *
The summer passed, Richard away again for the end of it, then returning in September for
the beginning of the school year. I, however, was leaving the city soon, and would be
gone for some time. Those days were my last chances to see him for a while, and I was
acutely aware of his nearness: I felt oriented towards him, as if I were a compass and he
was North.
But I still felt the rage, lurking under the surface of my mind like a submerged monster.
And though I ached with disturbingly intense thoughts of violence, it seemed that I was
staying away from Richard, closing him out when I ran into him. He finally confronted
me and asked, blunt as ever, if I was avoiding him. I denied it reflexively. How could I
avoid North?
"I'm still figuring out how I feel about you," I told him as we walked late one night on the
waterfront. I'd started to come to terms with being a masochist, had begun to assimilate
that into my self-image, but that didn't explain why it had taken him to force the
knowledge on me. The man I'd known in 2003, for instance, made no impression --
though he'd obviously seen exactly what Richard saw, and had taken almost exactly the
same approach. And I'd known heavily, formally BDSM-identifying folks for years. I'd
even experimented with light bondage in previous relationships -- being gently tied up,
for instance -- though I hadn't found it especially compelling.
Was it that I'd been drunk the first time I encountered Richard, my careful rational mind
turned off? Was it that nothing less drastic than the bruises he'd left could have forced my
understanding? Was it simply that I'd been romantically unhappy at the time, whereas I'd
been content when that other man pinned me to the floor? Even in the midst of my nowconstant
confusion, I couldn't stop myself from analyzing it all to bits. Now I concluded
that I ought to know how I felt about Richard if I wanted to get to the roots of myself.
It had taken me a while to call my openly-BDSM friends for advice, but -- maybe around
the same time I really started acclimating -- I had. One of their offhand comments came
to mind. "I guess there's no reason you would know this," she'd said, "but it's fairly
common for people to have one person who's their lover, and a separate person for
inflicting pain."
I thought about that, and about Richard saying, "A lot of crap comes out when you do this
stuff." I considered the maxims that tell us that the opposite of love isn't actually hate,
and how much time I'd spent encouraging myself to hate him. Finally, I admitted that the
only term I had to cover this depth of emotion was "love"... but that couldn't make it feel
like the right word. Then again, it wasn't exactly "hate", either.
He was a demon, an idol. He hardly felt like a person to me.
I didn't vocalize any of this. Coming back from the waterfront, we arrived at the
intersection where Richard would go to his apartment and I'd return to mine. An awkward
pause ensued: I was leaving in a few days, and wouldn't be alone with him again.
Watching him, I wondered if he was thinking about asking me over, or was looking for
an excuse not to. I looked away.
"Goodnight," I said. Walking home, I wished I felt strong.
* * *
It was after I left Chicago that I really started piecing myself back together. My anger
drained away quickly, as if an infected wound had been lanced. Perhaps I found my
strength under the scab. I figured that maybe all this did identify something about my
personality, but it didn't tell the whole story. Even now, I could be independent, rational,
and feminist, with self-esteem and integrity. Right? Right.
It was impossible to deny that the desires were real -- and when I allowed myself to focus
on them, I didn't try. Ruminating on my past, I recalled heart-twisting details that put
everything in a certain compelling context. It wasn't just the man who'd gone after me in
2003. Wincing, I remembered childhood fantasies: I'd compulsively written and drawn
brutal dreams until, at some confused middle-school point, their horror came home to me
and I recoiled. In those long-repressed fictions of slavery and pain, I recognized my
newly-acknowledged desires.
One conversation I'd had with an early boyfriend rang in my head. "There's a dark current
inside me," I'd told him. Self-consciously, I'd averted my eyes at my own melodrama. "I
don't know how to be with you, when I feel it." I hadn't exactly been trying to leave him,
but I'd needed something more.
The last dream I remember of Richard didn't involve any pain at all: he just kissed me.
Awakening, I felt a melancholy pang. Richard invested a lot of self-conception in being a
sadist, and he was so distant -- I couldn't imagine relating to him as a lover. And I knew
our relationship (such as it was) would never have started without BDSM as a focus.
Previous to that night at the outdoor party, he'd hardly registered on my romantic radar,
and we had little in common in terms of how we dealt with relationships.
Still, for a moment I wished -- unreasonably, I knew -- that I could have fallen
straightforwardly in love.
* * *
I was gone for six months, and I returned in heartbreak. A relationship more important
than words can encompass had become -- after years of attempts -- impossible. I think it
was obvious. One friend told me vulnerability was all over me; like a scent, I thought,
and wondered if Richard could smell it. In worse shape than ever, I saw Richard and
laughed with an edge to my voice. I gave him doe-eyed looks, but deflected his interest
with doublespeak and icy tones. I wanted him, and I felt the rage returning. I hated and
sheltered behind the unclear verbal games we played. Furious and despairing, I refused to
chase him, yet I felt him everywhere. North.
I had to do something. My identity had somewhat solidified: I was into BDSM. I believed
it, I even accepted it, but I couldn't go on feeling like I did.
In looking around the Internet, I came upon a directory of Kink Aware Professionals,
including therapists who provided their names for people who needed to talk about
BDSM but feared judgment. I visited two. One listened to me silently, with a vaguely
sorrowful expression; he offered no feedback, and left me wondering why he'd listed his
name in the directory. He obviously didn't know what to do with me, and I got the uneasy
feeling that I worried him. Naturally, that didn't help at all.
Luckily, the other was everything I could have asked for -- open, patient, clearly
knowledgeable about BDSM. He looked straight at me and nodded understandingly when
I confessed the whole trail of events; he explained how common my experience was; he
gave me ideas about where to look for more information, but didn't try to put his own
preferences into our talks. "Most people in your situation feel that they've broken a major
taboo," he said. "A lot try to get away from BDSM. But I'm not hearing that from you.
You want to adjust, not escape." I nodded, and arranged to see him regularly.
Still, I don't think I could have put myself together again without two other things.
My close friend Andrew went after me at a drunken party. Shades of Richard, I might
have thought, but I never did. Andrew pinned me to the floor, laughed as I fought back,
hurt me, finally kissed me. When I asked in bewilderment what brought this on, he
confessed. "When you were gone, I missed you," he whispered, "and I've never missed
anyone like that before." He was as afraid of the darkness of BDSM as I had been, yet
he'd thought of me and found himself fantasizing. He wanted to try it with me, but first he
wanted to be sure that he and I would remain close -- wouldn't lose what we already had.
In everything Andrew told me -- everything we said to each other, laughing, almost in
tears, burying each other in embraces, happily drunk and clear-eyed in the morning -- I
found the things that were missing with Richard. Uncertain about BDSM, guarding his
and my boundaries, Andrew wanted to commit to me and to a devoted monogamous
relationship. Part of me counseled caution and withdrawal, but as my therapist laughingly
put it, Andrew was as tempting as an ice-cream factory. It was my chance to fall
straightforwardly in love.
Soon after that, I had to explain to my parents why I wanted a psychiatrist who was outof-network
for my health insurance. I closed my eyes as my father asked why I needed
this specialist, what his focus was. "S&M," I said shortly.
Why had I worried? I knew my parents had striven to give me an independent, rational,
feminist outlook. Self-esteem and integrity. I was so lucky, I understood as my father said
nothing but, "All right." It was a blinding realization: my father might have judged me
with all the worst things I thought of myself -- but instead, he trusted me to do my best.
When I called my mother (long separated from my dad), too many of my flatmates were
around for a private conversation indoors. I banished myself into a warm summer storm,
cradling my cell phone away from the rain. There was a pause after I said the fateful
words -- then she said, "Have you talked to your father about this?"
"Yes," I said hesitantly. "Why?"
"Well, I think it was an issue in our marriage that I was more into that stuff than he was."
Fat droplets soaked my hair. The tight knot in my chest -- familiar for nearly a year --
loosened as I caught my breath. I turned my face up to the sky and let the tilted world
resettle around me; my mother's faraway voice helped me through a hundred things that
had torn my heart. "You aren't giving up your liberation," she reminded me, and
emphasized my continuing right to a partner who respects me. She even noted mildly that
she'd "wondered" about me when I was a child.
I'd feared that I was damaged, that there was something deeply broken in me. I'd wildly
guessed that I'd suffered trauma and repressed the memories. But if my mother -- one of
the most independent, feminist women I've ever met -- could reconcile BDSM, then I
knew I could. And if she was into BDSM herself, then rather than viewing my
proclivities as damage, I could see them as something intrinsic we shared.
Over the next hour, my mother told me I could retain rationality, self-esteem and
integrity. For the first time, I found myself believing it.
My therapist laughed when I told him. "I swear," he cried, "it's genetic!"
* * *
There was one loose end to a conclusion that felt like a fairy tale. Though we had some
unfettered conversations, tension remained between me and Richard -- perhaps it even
worsened. At one point, observing us, Andrew said mildly: "Settle down, you two."
Worse, Andrew and I were going in different directions. I finally felt somewhat at peace
with BDSM, but he couldn't gain that comfort, and started backing away from it. It was
impossible not to think of Richard and shiver, remembering how uncompromisingly
vicious he could be. When Andrew and I broke up over a year later, I knew: I shouldn't
see Richard. My therapist warned me to be careful with BDSM when my heart was in
pieces.
Of course I wasn't.
It was the first time I'd explicitly pursued Richard since he'd told me, so long ago, that he
was busy. I emailed him straightforwardly, sat down on his bed shortly after Andrew and
I broke up. When Richard set his fingernails into my skin, he murmured, "It's been a
while," as if he'd always known he'd see me here again. The tears came more quickly
than they once had -- I'd fought them then, unwilling to break down in front of him. I'd
been successful, too. Richard had only made me cry once, before.
This is what I want, I reminded myself as Richard wound his hand in my hair and pulled
my head back. His teeth bruising my shoulder felt familiar and wrong. A kiss on my neck
sent me rigid. Sobs nearly choked me. Why now, my heart cried, why not when you were
who I dreamed of, Richard?
I couldn't fault his empathy -- he pulled away. "No," I said unwillingly, "I'm fine," but he
wouldn't continue. Uneasily, he pointed out that I'd never reacted like that. I said he'd
never kissed me like that, and he asked, "Really?" as if it were a surprise.
Yes, I thought, forcing my tears away. I was desperate for it. I know.
To get him to keep hurting me, I had to convince him that I was fine. This is what I want,
I coached myself. I was nearly composed when Richard mentioned Andrew, and I felt
grief rip me open.
He watched me cry, got me a glass of water. Shades of two years ago, I might have
thought, but I never did. I apologized; he said only, "I thought this might happen." On
some level, I knew that I had, too -- for all my self-reassurances that I would be fine.
What was I thinking? I asked myself, and the answer came instantly. I had to know.
When Richard asked if I wanted to sleep over, I said I didn't. "Then don't go yet," he said
softly, putting his arms around me where I lay. I rested my head on his chest. I won't tell
Andrew about this, I decided, wondering if he and I would be together again. Even if I've
learned that I don't want Richard anymore.
* * *
In retrospect, it seems surreal that I reacted so badly to my BDSM orientation. The
agonizing memories of my adjustment have lost their emotional flavor. I've learned a lot
about how to practice BDSM safely -- physically and emotionally. I've had multiple
BDSM partners, and I've had positive experiences in the welcoming BDSM subculture.
In recent times, I've even begun to switch: occasionally I'll be the dominant partner,
though I feel submissive masochism far closer to my core.
Still, I remember the unease I felt at first -- and I recognize stronger unease in others. I
certainly wouldn't describe this orientation to, say, an employer. I believe BDSM needs a
liberation movement, just like homosexuality, but I'm not (yet?) ready to be a public
spokeswoman. And I definitely wouldn't consider dragging others out of the closet. I
write about BDSM under a pseudonym, and I have changed the names of Richard and
Andrew.
I fear that others will read this narrative as describing an assault, a near-rape -- and a
woman who tried to rationalize her experience by embracing it. That's not what
happened. When Richard first pulled my head back and hurt me at that drunken outdoor
party, I could have said no. The word was echoing in my mind, waiting on my lips, and I
didn't say it because I didn't want him to stop. I was certainly intoxicated, but I wasn't
helpless. I was threatened, but I was not afraid. I may have fought self-actualization like a
caged animal, but I could not deny it. I have always been this way.
Conversely, I'm afraid that some conservative will read this and say: "Look how the
feminist movement has failed us!" That's not what happened, either. I identify as
feminist, and I don't believe that to be at odds with being a submissive masochist. Indeed,
I believe that the feminist movement helped my practice of BDSM: it's one of the factors
that gave me the strength and self-assurance required to figure out and discuss my sexual
needs.
Andrew and I did get back together; then we broke up again. Richard and I have had
other nights together. I wish this narrative ended cleanly. I wish I could say that I've
found a fairy-tale lover, that I'm now with a man who both hurts me till I cry and gives
me the relationship I want. (Why stop there? He could be rich and handsome and a great
cook, too!) But this is my story, not a fairy tale. Just as well; that means I still have space
to learn. I believe I've gotten better at communicating clearly. I believe I've gotten better
at sorting out the harsh emotions inspired by BDSM, working with -- and enjoying! --
those feelings in the context of a loving relationship. And I hope I no longer objectify my
sadistic partners to the extent that I objectified Richard. Still, I know I've got a ways to
go.
I see BDSM as a continuum -- similar to the theory that homosexuality is a continuum --
and sometimes I think that everyone's on the continuum to some degree. I don't think
Andrew is as far into the continuum as I am, and not as far as Richard, either. But there
are reasons I was with Andrew for nearly two years, yet never let myself fall completely
into Richard.
A certain kind of devoted relationship is important to me. I felt strongly about Richard,
and he was a good fit for BDSM, but he couldn't give me the relationship I want. I went
back to Andrew, though he was far less into BDSM, because I was able to love him. I
wonder, though: if I ever fall for a completely vanilla man, will I be able to compromise
that far? It seems unlikely. Maybe if that happens I'll have to remember my friend's
words and find a separate person, a non-lover who inflicts pain.
I'd rather not do that, but I can't imagine giving up BDSM. The idea feels equivalent to a
vow of celibacy. As my therapist said, I'm not looking to escape -- especially not now
that I've finally adjusted. It wasn't easy, but I feel that today I am triumphant. And I
believe, I hope, that knowing what I want is the surest path to falling straightforwardly --
happily -- in love.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2010/06/30/love-bites-an-sm-coming-out-story-mirror/
* * *
* * *
* * *
EDUCATION:
[theory] Liberal, Sex-Positive Sex Education: What's Missing
I originally wrote this in 2009, then reposted it in 2010 as part of a group drive by sexpositive
bloggers to solicit donations to Scarleteen.com. Scarleteen is an amazing sex
education site run by the equally amazing sex educator Heather Corinna, and it can
always use donations! You should totally go investigate that site -- after you're done
reading my work, of course.
When I first published this piece, the sex-positive film director Tony Comstock
commented on Twitter, "I think that post of yours might be one of the most important
things written about sex-positivity in the last 10 years." I was really honored by that,
because he does excellent work.
My parents occasionally read my blog, and I also got some interesting feedback from my
mother. She wrote to me: " Speaking from where I sat when you were growing up: I wish
I could have taught you what you eventually learned on your own. But I felt there was
this unchallengeable wave moving and I didn't have a place to stand to counter it. I kept
thinking I was leaving you to learn the hard way exactly what I learned the hard way,
and was still learning, and was despairing of ever learning."
I wrote back: "For what it's worth, I remember you trying to stem the tide with small
comments, and I think that those comments later helped me center myself in a place
where I could reach my own conclusions rather than blindly sleeping around." I hope it
made her feel better, because it's true. I'm not a parent, although someday I would like to
be... but I think one of the hardest things about parenting must be knowing that your kids
will learn terrible things from the surrounding world, and the best you can do is try to be
there while they process those lessons.
* * *
Liberal, Sex-Positive Sex Education: What's Missing
I am fortunate. I was born in the eighties and I received a great sex-positive upbringing.
The public school I attended taught students how to use condoms; middle school health
education included a section on sexually transmitted diseases. My parents didn't throw
their sexuality in my face -- but they were almost always matter-of-fact, understanding
and accepting when they talked about sex. (I'll never forget how, at age 12 or so, Mom
sat me down and gave me a long speech about how it would be totally okay if I were
gay.) I was raised Unitarian Universalist, and the Unitarian Sunday School teen program
included a wonderful sex education curriculum called About Your Sexuality. (I
understand that the sex-ed curriculum has been changed and updated, and is now called
Our Whole Lives. I haven't delved deeply into the Our Whole Lives program -- maybe it
addresses some of the issues I'm about to describe.)
So I think I'm in a good position to describe the problematic signals we face in liberal
sexual education. Yes, I've experienced the overall sex-negative messages that drench
America, and they're terrible -- but so much is already being said about those. I also
received lots of sex-positive messages that are incomplete, or problematic, or don't quite
go the distance in helping us navigate sexuality -- and I think the sex-positive movement
must focus on fixing them.
I'm so grateful for my relatively liberal, relatively sex-positive upbringing. I think it did
me a world of good. But here are my five biggest problems with the way I learned
about sexuality:
1. I wish that I hadn't gotten this message: "Sex is easy, light-hearted -- and if it's not,
you're doing it wrong."
Do I believe sex can be easy? Sure. Do I think it can be light-hearted? Absolutely! But do
I think it's always those things? No, and I don't think it "ought to" be.
I think we need to teach that sex can be incredibly difficult. It can be hard to
communicate with your partner. It can be hard to learn and come to terms with your own
sexual desires. It can be hard to understand or accept all your partner's sexual desires.
And just because it's hard, doesn't mean that you're with the wrong partner -- or that
you're missing some vital piece of information that everyone else has -- or that you're
doing it wrong.
And as for light-hearted, well -- sure, sex can be "happy rainbows joy joy!", but it can
also be serious... or dark. And there's nothing wrong with that!
I recently talked to a friend, who also identifies as a BDSMer, about our stories of
coming into BDSM. Both of us had sadomasochistic fantasies from a very early age
(mine, for instance, started in grade school -- seriously, I actually did tie up my Barbie
dolls). I told my friend about how I'd always had these intense, dark, violent feelings --
but when I made it to middle school, I remember a change. I had a series of vivid BDSMish
dreams, and I freaked out. I closed it all away, I stopped thinking about it, I repressed
it all as savagely as I could.
Before that, I had also started thinking about sex. I imagined sex at great length; I read
about sex. I had long since filched my parents' copy of The Joy of Sex and examined it,
cover to cover -- not to mention many other fine sexuality works, like Nancy Friday's
compilation of female sexual fantasies My Secret Garden. I was totally fascinated by sex.
I talked about it so much that one of my friends specifically searched out a vibrator as a
birthday present for me. I actually pressured my first major boyfriend into some sexual
acts before he was ready, which I suppose is an interesting reversal of stereotype (but to
be clear, it's not okay that I did that). As I started having sex, I found that I liked it okay,
but knew a lot was missing -- and couldn't figure out what.
It took me years and years to connect sex to BDSM -- to figure out that the biggest thing I
was missing was BDSM. Why? Because BDSM was horrible and wrong, and I'd shut it
away; BDSM (I thought) couldn't possibly have anything to do with the bright, shiny,
happy horizon of sex! Coming into BDSM was a crisis for me partly because -- although
I knew other people practiced it, and had never thought much about that -- my own need
for those dark feelings totally shocked me. This wasn't me. This wasn't healthy sex. Sex
was light-hearted, happy rainbows joy joy!... wasn't it?
In contrast, my friend -- who had an extremely sexually repressed upbringing -- never
had any trouble integrating BDSM into his sex life. Sex, for him, was already wrong and
bad... so as he got in touch with his sexuality and began having sex, BDSM was involved
from the start. After all, there was no reason for it not to be.
As glad as I am that my upbringing was not stereotypically sexually repressed, I have to
say that I envy my friend his easy personal integration of BDSM.
2. I wish this point had been made, over and over: "You might consider being careful
with sex."
I recently read an excellent New Yorker article that reviews the new version of The Joy of
Sex. It talks about the time when The Joy of Sex came out, as well as a similar
contemporary feminist book, Our Bodies, Ourselves, and it points out that "both books
espoused the (distinctly seventies) notion that sex could be a value-neutral experience, as
natural as eating."
"Value-neutral": that's a great way to describe the overall attitude about sex that I
absorbed. As if sex were something I could do as an amusing diversion, with anyone, at
any time, and it would always be fun fun fun! As if there was no need to be overly careful
or sensitive -- sex was just a game I could play, like a sport -- where the worst that would
happen if I screwed up might be a skinned knee.
I wish that there had been an emphasis on how emotions can really matter, when it
comes to sex. I wish that there had been acknowledgment of the fact that we can really
hurt ourselves, and others, when we're cavalier about sex. (Not that we always do -- but
we can.) I wish I had understood sooner that sex is not always value-neutral; that
everyone has all manner of different sexual needs and hangups, anxieties and strong
emotions. I think maybe there are people out there who can have "value-neutral" sex --
where it's totally about physicality and nothing more -- but I am not like that, and I
suspect that most people are not.
Which isn't to say that I think there's anything wrong with people who can have sex that's
"value-neutral." (And maybe "value-neutral" is not a great term for it; I worry that I
sound like I'm judging when I use that term.) I just don't think it's a good model for
everyone, and yet I think that it has somewhat been promoted as if everyone "ought to"
be that way.
I think that there are lots of people out there who feel as though the sexual liberation
movement "failed" or "betrayed them," because they convinced themselves that sex is
value-neutral and then got hurt. You see a lot of assertions along these lines in the
conservative media -- for instance, here's a quotation from a synopsis of the book
Modern Sex:
The 1960s sexual revolution made a big promise: if we just let go of our inhibitions, we'll
be happy and fulfilled. Yet sexual liberation has made us no happier and, if anything, less
fulfilled. Why?... sex today is increasingly mechanical and without commitment -- a
department of plumbing, hygiene, or athletics rather than a private sphere for the
creation of human meaning. The result: legions of unhappy adults and confused
teenagers deprived of their innocence, on their way not to maturity but to
disillusionment.... These beautifully written essays -- on subjects ranging from the TV
show Sex and the City to teen sex to the eclipse of the manly ideal to the benefits of
marriage -- add up to the deepest, most informative appraisal we have of how and why
the sexual revolution has failed.
I disagree with most of their attitude. We don't need innocence. We don't need sexual
mystery. We don't need to eliminate teen sex. We don't need to re-establish some
limiting, patriarchal "manly ideal." But they've got one thing right: we do need to start
talking about sex as something that is not mostly mechanical -- as something that, yes,
can be "a private sphere for the creation of human meaning."
3. I wish I'd learned this: "Good sex doesn't just require two (or more) people who like
sex. It requires desire -- and desire simply doesn't work the same way for everyone."
I've said before that I went through a period -- back when I was first becoming sexually
active -- where I simply could not figure out why sexual acts with people I didn't care
about didn't seem to turn me on. Or rather -- they turned me on a little, but not... much. It
took me a while to understand that sex requires more than just two eager people. It
requires attraction and desire.
When I was fifteen or so, and at summer camp, I remember making out with a boy. I
didn't really want to make out with him, but I wasn't sure how to reject him (more on this
under point 5). And I figured: he seems nice enough, so I might as well make out with
him. Afterwards, I felt angry at myself, and I felt like I'd wasted my time -- and I felt
confused. I'd been bored at best and repulsed at worst, and I wasn't sure why I felt that
way, or why I'd done something that made me feel that way.
So why had I done it? Because I'd thought: "Sex is value-neutral." Because I'd thought:
"Making out is fun, right? -- that means I ought to do it when I get the chance!" Because
I'd thought: "My preference not to make out with him is probably just some silly
repression that I need to get over." Because I didn't understand that desire is complicated,
that you can't just make yourself feel desire when it's convenient, and that you don't need
a reason for your attractions -- or lack of attraction. This situation was to reprise itself in
various forms over the next years, until I finally learned that sometimes you simply want
or don't want things, and that you aren't required to justify your desires.
4. I wish I'd gotten a list of suggestions: "Here are some places you might go to start
figuring out what turns you on."
I was told that sex was fun. I was even told to explore! But I still spent years with very
little actual idea of what I wanted. No one ever told me how or where I might be able to
learn more about my needs, or what exploring my needs might look like. And no one ever
explained that people are turned on by different things, that some people like some sex
acts and don't like others, and that's okay.
I went into sex with a buffet-style attitude, thinking that I must naturally enjoy sex
equally in all ways. I was so surprised when I found out that I like some positions better
than others! I remember how confused I was when I dated a guy who didn't like fellatio,
and how hurt I felt -- like his lack of enjoyment meant that I must be doing it wrong,
because everyone likes oral sex, right?
And of course, while I had a pretty comprehensive idea of the vanilla sex acts I could
experiment with, I had very little idea of what else was out there. In retrospect I find this
hilarious, but I remember -- back in my vanilla days -- I had two boyfriends who tied me
up. They tied me up and were nice to me, and I suppose it was amusing enough, but
didn't drive me crazy with lust or anything. And -- this is the kicker -- because I did not
understand that there's a lot more to BDSM than light bondage, because I did not
understand that there are many separate BDSM acts that people can enjoy and
many ways to flavor them, I assumed from this experience that I didn't like BDSM.
I went through my old journal entries the other day and uncovered one in which I,
confused, am speculating about what's missing from my sex life: I write, "I've tried S&M,
so it can't be that."
What a learning curve I had ahead of me, eh?
I wish someone had tried to explain to me the vast cornucopia of human fetishes out
there. I wish someone had explained that erotica and pornography are both actually really
good ways to learn about your turn-ons, and -- more importantly -- had told me that not
all erotica and pornography are the same, so the fact that I wasn't into mainstream
stuff didn't mean I automatically wasn't interested in all erotica or porn. I've mentioned
that I had lots of conversations with friends about sex, but -- until recent years -- those
conversations were never framed as "This is what I like," or "I've found something new
that turns me on," and I wish I'd realized sooner what a great resource conversations like
that might be.
5. I wish I'd gotten a list of ideas: "Here are some ways you can try communicating
with your partner about sex."
Lastly, but certainly not least -- I was never taught how to communicate about sex. No
one ever gave me even the first idea. In all my sex-positive, liberal sexual upbringing, I
was told over and over that "relationships require communication", but no one ever said:
"And here's some ways in which you might communicate sexually with your partner."
One big benefit of teaching sexual communication strategies is that it helps people learn
to say "no" when they don't want to do something. Teaching people how to set
boundaries is massively important, and I think a lot about ways to do it. I saw this
adorable video about cuddle parties recently that really struck me -- these people create
parties where everyone basically just cuddles, but everyone also specifically has the
power to say "no" to any given person or act. The reporter who made the video talks at
the end about how she found the whole experience to be empowering -- how she felt like
it gave her space to say "no" that she hadn't had before. Perhaps these could be used to
teach people to set boundaries?
But you can't really use cuddle parties in a school or workshop setting, more's the pity.
When I developed my first sex education workshop, it was all about describing good
communication strategies. I listed questions that all sex partners could benefit from
asking each other, including "What do you like?" and "What do you fantasize about?"
and "Is there anything you really don't want me to do?"
And I talked about ways that you can make communication easier, if the two partners are
uncomfortable having this conversation. I took a page from the BDSM community by
creating checklists of all kinds of sexual acts and weird fetishes and gender-bending
craziness, and I put it all on a 1-5 scale (with 1 being "not at all interested" and 5 being
"I'd love to try this"), and I told people that they could try filling out those checklists and
giving them to their partners. (The amazing sex education site Scarleteen later
implemented the same idea, in a much more comprehensive way than I had!) I suggested
that partners write out their fantasies and email them to each other, or write out
descriptions of their mutual sexual experiences -- long accounts, describing how they felt
about everything and what sticks out in their minds -- and send those to each other, too,
so they can get each others' perspectives on what they've done.
(By the way, I still offer a much-improved version of that workshop on my list of events,
lectures, and workshops, just in case you're interested in bringing me in....)
God, it's so hard to talk about what we want. It's even hard to talk about talking about
what we want. I mean, it's hard enough to figure out what we want in the first place -- but
communicating it... eeek! And it's worth noting that this is not just a problem of having
good sex. As was pointed out recently on the blog for the wonderful sex-positive
anthology Yes Means Yes!:
[There is a] need to demystify and destigmatize communication about sex. If we can't talk
about what we like and what we want, we will always have problems making clear what
it is we're consenting to. If we can't be frank about what we do want, we put a lot of
weight on the need to communicate what we don't.
Giving everyone great sexual communication skills doesn't just give us all better sex -- it
fights rape. There's a noble cause for you!
... So, that's my five-pointed analysis. And that's what I'm pushing for. My goals are not
just to get people thinking that sex is awesome and sexual freedom is important. It's
going to be hard, and it's going to be an uphill battle, but I'm hoping that I can not only
help out with sexual liberation -- I'm hoping to improve it.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2010/11/11/classic-repost-liberal-sex-positive-sexeducation-whats-missing/
* * *
* * *
* * *
COMMUNICATION:
[theory] Sex Communication Tactic Derived From S&M: The
Annotated Safeword
As soon as I started researching S&M and thinking critically about the communication
tactics promoted in the S&M community, I realized that there were a lot of really
important lessons wrapped up in those tactics -- lessons that could be deconstructed and
applied to all kinds of sexuality. From the beginning, I planned to do a series of posts on
Sex Communication Tactics Derived from S&M, but I only got around to it in 2010.
The post about safewords caught the attention of Thomas MacAulay Millar, a feminist
blogger and S&Mer who is older and more established in the blogosphere than I.
Thomas asked if he could annotate the article, then post it on the blog where he usually
writes -- the blog for the excellent sex-positive anti-rape anthology Yes Means Yes. Of
course I agreed. The final product looks something like a conversation between me and
Thomas, although I wrote the post before he added his input.
* * *
The Annotated Safeword
Thomas MacAulay Millar:
Clarisse Thorn's post about safewords is so good I'm just going to repost the whole thing
and annotate it.
Clarisse Thorn:
Everyone knows about BDSM safewords... or at least, everyone thinks they know about
safewords. But one of the initial moments that really impressed me about my current
boyfriend was when I asked him, many moons ago, if he knew what a safeword is. He
paused, then answered, "I think I'm familiar with the idea, but I probably don't know
much more than a stereotype, so I'd like to hear you define it." Humility and open-minded
curiosity are so incredibly hot!
Righto. Hot boyfriend aside, I'm here to explain safewords and check-ins, and how those
concepts can exemplify excellent sexual communication for everyone -- not just S&Mers
-- in a world that doesn't do a good job teaching anyone how to communicate sexually.
When two (or more) people have a BDSM encounter together, generally they set a
safeword -- a word that anyone can say at any time to stop the action. (Sometimes people
don't use safewords. This is their choice and I totally respect it. I would not recommend
going without safewords for anyone who doesn't know their partner extremely well, and
I would be seriously sketched out by anyone who pressured a partner to go without
safewords.)
Thomas MacAulay Millar:
A word on origin: safewords are only strictly necessary in one circumstance -- where the
participants want words like "no" and "stop" not to have their ordinary meaning. One can
do BDSM for a lifetime without a safeword, if words have their ordinary meanings. As
former porn star and kinkster Ona Zee once put it (I'm quoting an interview from memory
here), "our safeword is 'that hurts.'" Folks can even do heavy play depending on how they
react to things, without a safeword, simply saying "stop" or "too much" or "fuck, I can't
handle any more of that!" when the play gets too intense. Any BDSMer who would tell
you URDOINITRONG if you use ordinary words to communicate in scene is not
someone you need to listen to.
Safewords are essential for roleplay where "no, please don't, I'll do anything!" should not
stop the action. It's also essential for any bottom who will involuntarily shout "No! Stop!"
while actually wanting more. Other than that, it's an optional tool -- a very, very useful
one, for many reasons. Clarisse mentioned that some people "don't use safewords." From
the context, she's talking not about people for whom no means no in scene, but people for
whom there is no definitive way for the bottom to stop the scene. And perhaps readers
can tell from Clarisse's tone that that's... the advanced class. You'll find the safety police
in any BDSM space or community that finger-wag about it, and the swaggering morekinky-than-thous
that brag about it. But what does it mean?
I can only tell you what it means for me. There are times I give up my safeword: only to
my spouse. We've been playing together for about a decade and a half. If I give up my
safeword, and that's something we do rarely, it doesn't mean I don't have limits. I have
limits! Yes I do! There are things I can't handle, mentally or physically, and things I
never want to handle! There are "hard limits," things I've said I'm just not willing to do.
And there are soft limits, things I don't think I'm ready for but I'm willing to bump up
against them and see what happens. If I give up my safeword, it means I have limits, but
instead of telling her when I've reached them, I'm going to trust her to listen to me and
watch me and make that decision. I may say, "I can't, I can't, I can't," and she may decide
I really can't. Or she may decide I've got more in me than I believe I do. There's a lot of
risk associated with that. But there's a trust in those moments and a closeness that does
not go away when the scene is over. Or ever, really. Risk and reward: we set our own
tolerances.
Some folks may have come across the term "consensual nonconsent." It's one of those
terms with multiple meanings. Some people use it to describe any situation where the
bottom is saying "no, don't" but has not yet safeworded -- a usage I find less than useful.
Others use it to describe roleplays of nonconsensual situations. The last common usage,
though, is that which I like to describe using Hunter S. Thompson's phrase, "buy the
ticket, take the ride." It means that the bottom consents to be in a situation I've just
described, where the top decides if the bottom needs to stop, often but not always around
specific activities, and usually (wisely) heavily negotiated.
Clarisse Thorn:
When I give advice about setting safewords, I usually offer the following:
A) Some people like to say that it's good to use a safeword that's jolting, and is likely to
make your partner feel totally unsexy. Isn't there a Family Guy episode in which Lois &
Peter's safeword is "banana" or something?
Thomas MacAulay Millar:
Not a fan. The more obscure a safeword, the harder it is for a bottom who is spacey or
flying on endorphins to access it. It's easy to remember "banana" in the calm before the
storm. At the moment when it's most needed, that can easily become a muddle of
"yellow? was it a fruit? Shit, what do I do?" That's not a place bottoms want to find
themselves and a top never, never, never wants to have a bottom who is at a limit but
can't communicate about it.
Clarisse Thorn:
B) In my experience, the generally accepted safewords in the S&M community are
"safeword" and, more commonly, "red." I consider it useful to go with the "public
standard" because that means that in the future, you're likely to be attuned to the correct
word if you practice BDSM with other partners as well. (It also means that if you ever do
S&M in a public space such as a dungeon, everyone in the place will recognize your
safeword if you scream it.)
C) At first wasn't that excited about this, but I've grown to love the fact that the safeword
"red" also sometimes encompasses "green" -- and "yellow." That means that if I'm in the
middle of an S&M encounter, I can say "red" and my partner will stop; I can then catch
my breath and say "green," which means "by God keep going!" Or, if I'm a little
uncertain about the territory but don't actually want my partner to stop -- if I just want my
partner to be a little bit cautious -- then I can say "yellow" (and, of course, I can move to
"green" if I become really psyched, or shift to "red" if I really want my partner to stop).
Thomas MacAulay Millar:
My spouse and I use the "stoplight system." It's simple, it works, and "yellow" option is
really useful for things that are getting hard to handle. Also, a lot of bottoms are either
submissives or masochists with more pride and stubbornness than is good for them -- the
former out of an overdeveloped desire to please, the latter sometimes out of a desire to
impress or even just a pitbull-stubborn urge to push themselves as hard as they can go.
Take the personalities that finish an Ironman and collapse and need IV fluids, and put
them on a spanking bench with big welts from a prison strap, and you've got someone
who won't safeword when ze probably should. In those and other circumstances, giving
the bottom an easy option to say, "I'm struggling here" without feeling like they're
quitting is a very useful thing.
[Editor's Note: "ze" is the gender-neutral pronoun, and it's in the Glossary. Clarisse
tried to use it regularly for a while, but ultimately concluded that it made her posts less
accessible to non-gender nerds.]
Clarisse Thorn:
I know that this probably doesn't sound sexy at all, but it totally can be! Consider the
following example: during my last vacation to America, I had an S&M encounter with a
dude I'll refer to as Klark. (It's not my fault. He requested the pseudonym.) At one point,
Klark was experimenting with hurting me, and I had my eyes closed and was whimpering
/ crying out in a totally glorious way. (The poor overnight desk clerk. He was only one
short flight of stairs away from us.) I think Klark was legitimately having trouble
detecting whether I was enjoying myself, though -- understandably, because we had only
just met, and I enjoy sinking myself into dramatic masochistic misery -- so he leaned over
me and said, in a low dark voice, "Red, yellow, green." Immediately, I gasped back
"Green." Because he spoke in a gritty and dominant voice, and the check-in was quick,
we were able to maintain the mood -- and it was actually kind of hot in itself.
Which brings me to the other thing: check-ins. Sometimes, you want to check in with
your partner. Which can be easy: you can just say, "Hey, how does this feel?" or, as a
more precise example, "Give me a rating of 1-10 on how good this feels (or how much
this hurts)." But if you want to do it quickly and without shifting the mood, you can do it
as I outline above in the Klark example. Or even quicker, as for example with the handsqueeze
system, where the participants agree ahead of time that you can squeeze another
person's hand twice and expect two squeezes back -- and if there aren't two return
squeezes, it's time to stop and figure out what's going wrong. (Squeeze system: also very
helpful when gags are involved.)
Thomas MacAulay Millar:
There are all kinds of safesigns when nonverbal communication is necessary; one being
to give the bottom an object to hold and to drop when at a limit. It has the disadvantage of
being binary, so it loses the middle step that the stoplight system provides.
Clarisse Thorn:
Sometimes submissives will have a hard time safewording -- whether out of pride,
inexperience, or eagerness to please -- and that's another reason check-ins can be good
even when there's a set safeword. If you aren't sure how to read your partner's reactions
and you suspect ze may be uncomfortable with what you are doing, then you might
consider checking in even if ze hasn't safeworded, because your suspicion may be right.
Thomas MacAulay Millar:
This can't be emphasized enough. Tops Can Never Be On Cruise Control! A safeword
gives the bottom a tool to communicate, but it does not ensure safety. The top has at least
as much information that the bottom doesn't have, as the bottom has information the top
doesn't have. Therefore, the top has to be a full participant in making sure the scene is
working and the risks are under control at all times. Anyone who thinks ze can ignore
safety as long as the bottom has a safeword is dangerous.
This post was edited to add: In the comments on this article, Dw3t-Hthr made a powerful
point that for some people, safewords are unavailable in scene. She said, in part:
[I]f I am in a place where a safeword might be necessary, a safeword is not possible. Not
just because I am someone who is regularly nonverbal, but because the altered
consciousness state that I achieve makes processing those sorts of questions at best
difficult and at worst unachievable...
But I'm not a bottom, I'm a submissive, and this isn't about "wanting to please," it's about
a psychological incapacity to recognise when I might be doing myself damage in certan
situations. If I'm not in that state, I can say "Oh stop doing that it's wrenching my
shoulder" or whatever is appropriate. If I am in that state, I cannot indicate and have to
place complete trust in the judgement of my partner.
I happen to know that I'm not the only person like this. I think it's important to recognise
that safewords are not always possible. It's important, I think, to communicate to the
person who resembles me in this that while their brainwiring is not morally incorrect,
that they probably ought to think of themselves as Advanced Subjects and try to do their
thing in a context where the trust and competence required to do it safely is
demonstrated.
Also, a note on terminology: Clarisse used "submissive" there in a way where it's not
clear from the context whether it's meant as an umbrella term like "bottom" or as a
specific term. The use of "dominant" and "submissive" as the default terms seems to me
to have started in the mid 90's, and I've never liked it because of its imprecision. Not all
bottoms are subs; some people like to bottom but don't have a submissive bone in them.
Some bottoms are wisecracking smartassed masochists only in it to play the pain game
and ride the endorphins; some bottoms don't see themselves as giving up power in any
way to the top. And I top my fair share, but I certainly don't think of myself as a
dominant. I think the change in terminology arose with a small but vocal minority of
kinksters who believe that everyone who does BDSM is really looking for a deep power
exchange, ultimately even a 24/7 relationship. I still see people make this argument.
They're still wrong, and they're still few in number. Using "submissive" and "dominant"
when one means to include folks who are just topping and bottoming may be
misunderstood; saying "top" and "bottom" is almost always correctly understood as the
inclusive term. ("Sadist" and "masochist" are specific terms that shouldn't be pressed into
general service either; there are submissives that really, really don't like pain at all and
dominants that would prefer never to inflict it.)
What I love about safewords and check-ins:
Clarisse Thorn:
1) Hypothetically, mainstream society acknowledges that anyone could say no at any
point during sex, but in practice, this is really hard. A variety of forces -- girls socially
pressured not to be so-called "cock-teases," boys socially pressured to supposedly "prove
their manliness," and everyone anxious to please their partners -- work against people's
capacity to say no; and while there is a vague understanding that "no means no," that
vagueness is as far as it gets. There's no explicit framework in place for how to say "no,"
and no understanding of how to continue an encounter (or relationship) after one's partner
says no. Even worse, there's an assumed linear progression of sexual activity -- the best
example is the "base system," which places sexual interaction on a metaphorical baseball
diamond where "first base" = groping and "home base" = penis-in-vagina sex. Have I
mentioned that I hate the base system?
So anyway, the biggest moral of the story with safewords and check-ins is that consent
does not only happen once. Consent is always happening, and can always be
renegotiated or withdrawn. Adapting my understanding of sexuality to reflect this --
even in my non-BDSM sex -- might have been the best thing that ever happened to my
sex life.
Thomas MacAulay Millar:
What can safewords do for non-kinky people? Permission communication. In a culture
that delegitimizes communication -- especially women's communication of limits or
needs -- this is huge. Safewords permission "no." That which permissions the free
exercise of "no" also, necessarily, creates space for the free exercise of "yes."
Clarisse Thorn:
2) On a related note: Good sex is not about entitlement. If we acknowledge that anyone
can safeword out of any sexual act at any time, then we acknowledge that no one is
entitled to any kind of sex from a partner -- ever. If your partner loves you but doesn't
want to have sex with you? That's a respectable choice. If you're really turned on, but
your partner can't stand the idea of having sex right now? That's a respectable choice.
Those two are easy, I think, but how about these?
+ If your partner used to do something with you a lot, but doesn't want to do it anymore?
That's a respectable choice.
+ If you are married to your partner, but ze doesn't want to have sex? That's a respectable
choice.
+ If your partner performed a sexual act with another partner but would prefer not to do it
with you? That's a respectable choice.
+ If you know your partner likes a certain kind of sex, but they don't want to do it right
now? That's a respectable choice.
+ If you think a certain act is "mild" and "taken for granted," like kissing or tickling, but
your partner doesn't want to do it? That's a respectable choice.
By the way, if you (like I once did) feel as though your partner is entitled to sex of any
kind, I encourage you to re-examine that feeling. Ditto if you've got a little voice in your
head telling you that you "ought to" be up for sex all the time just because you don't get it
very often... or that you "ought to" be up for sex if you've done it with your partner
before... or whatever. The other best thing that ever happened to my sex life was when I
finally, finally, finally internalized the idea that my partners don't ever "deserve" sex for
any reason -- that there's no reason I ever "should" be having sex -- and that the only
reason I should ever, ever, ever do anything sexual is because I legitimately want to.
Of course, if you truly believe that you need a certain kind of sexuality in your life, then
you're absolutely entitled to ask your partner to consider it -- and you're entitled to leave
the relationship if ze isn't up for it. But this doesn't mean that you "deserve" to do that act
with that person, or that your partner "owes" you a certain act.
And hey, if your partner isn't down with one specific sexual act, then that means you've
got the chance to explore all kinds of other sexuality. Another other best thing that ever
happened to my sexuality? Quite possibly, it's my current boyfriend -- whose religious
adherence has drastically limited our physical sexual options.
Thomas MacAulay Millar:
We're each entitled to our own identity, but not to our own partner. Our partners are
people, with thoughts and desires and limits of their own, and they don't have to do what
we want them to do. This goes for tops, too! Tops have limits! Because of my blogging
covenant with my spouse (what I do as a bottom is personal to me and I decide how much
I reveal; what she does as a bottom is personal to her and she prefers that those stories not
be blogfodder) I don't have any really good stories to share about hitting my limits as a
top. But they exist. Tops are not required to be into everything a bottom is into, and they
damned sure are under no obligation to do things that make them uncomfortable just
because the bottom wants it -- whether the reason for the discomfort is risk tolerance,
ideology, squeamishness or anything else. Tops can say, "no, I won't suspend you from
that eyebolt because I don't trust it", "no, I'm not interested in doing that roleplay because
I wouldn't be comfortable with it", or "I don't do play piercing because blood is a hard
limit for me." We all have a right to say no to sexual acts we don't want; even if we're
topping.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://yesmeansyesblog.wordpress.com/2010/07/07/the-annotated-safeword/
Clarisse's original post on safewords can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2010/07/03/sex-communication-tactic-derived-from-sm-2-
safewords-and-check-ins/
* * *
* * *
* * *
COMMUNICATION:
[theory] Sex Communication Tactic Derived From S&M: Checklists
This is part of the same 2010 series as the previous article -- in fact, it came first.
* * *
Checklists
S&M checklists are long lists of different acts that sexual partners can use to discuss
different acts and measure each others' interest in those acts. Each act on the checklist
usually looks something like this:
FLOGGING -- GIVING __________________ O O O O O
FLOGGING -- RECEIVING ______________ O O O O O
Each partner rates each entry by filling out 1-5 bubbles, with 1 darkened bubble meaning
"Not interested" and 5 bubbles meaning "I crave this!"
I think this concept is brilliant because:
1) Too often, it's assumed that "sex" encompasses certain acts, and if you're interested in
a sexual relationship you must be interested in all those acts. Or there's assumed to be a
kind of linear progression, as exemplified in the "base system," where "first base" is
groping and "home base" is penis-in-vagina sex. Talking about each sexual act as its own
self-contained idea short-circuits those problematic ideas about sex and makes it easier
for couples to turn down some of the "assumed" acts (e.g., if I don't want oral sex but I do
want penis-in-vagina...).
2) It provides an easy way to communicate desires -- if a person is nervous about saying,
"Hey, is it okay if I flog you?" then the couple doesn't even have to talk about it right
3) Concurrently, it provides an easy way to turn down acts -- it's much harder to reject a
lover's proposition when ze says, "Darling, can I flog you?" than it is when you simply
fill in one bubble on the "Flogging -- Receiving" section. In the past, I've certainly felt a
lot of anxiety when I wanted to turn down partners, and it's nice to imagine a set-up that
would have made me feel less anxious.
In fact, I love the checklist concept so much that when the University of Illinois at
Chicago had me design my sexual communication workshop, I created a "vanilla" version
of the checklist that had entries ranging from "oral sex" to "sex in public" to "tying up /
being tied up." (Okay, maybe it wasn't entirely vanilla... I wanted to encourage people to
voice things they weren't sure about!) Then I later found out that the amazing sex
education site Scarleteen has created its own non-BDSM checklist, and theirs is way
better than mine.
I just love the principle of the thing -- the principle that a couple can have a lot of fun
just by sitting down and talking about every conceivable sex act, being presented with
some options that they maybe haven't thought of before, and honestly describing how
into each idea they each are.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
away. They can just sit down, fill out their checklists and compare results without getting
too worried about how to bring up certain desires. I mean, at some point of course they'll
hopefully talk about it, but hopefully the checklist framework makes it easier and lowerpressure.
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2010/06/14/sex-communication-tactic-derived-from-sm-1-
checklists/
* * *
* * *
* * *
COMMUNICATION:
[theory] Sex Communication Tactic Derived From S&M: Journal-
Keeping
This is part of the same 2010 series as the previous two articles. In this piece, I
mentioned 24/7 Master/slave relationships, which I had just learned about. Since then,
I've learned a lot more about those relationships. I have never been in one, although I
have occasionally had partners order me to do long-term submissive things. But I've read
and heard a lot of tales about 24/7 M/s.
24/7 Master/slave scenarios are rare... and I will say that there are some awful horror
stories floating around about them. Some BDSMers say that 24/7 Master/slave
relationships are always a terrible idea and should never be done. I am unwilling to
condemn them so thoroughly, but those relationships obviously require a lot of respect
and care from each participant. I would advise a person interested in such a relationship
to only consider it with a partner they know very well; to establish pressure-free
channels of communication; and to ensure crystal-clear understanding of how, exactly,
the relationship can be ended if anyone involved truly wants it to end.
* * *
Journal-Keeping
Some BDSMers play with really, really strong power dynamics. A good example of this
is couples who choose a "24/7 dynamic": one partner is dominant and the other is
submissive... all the time. I attended a workshop once with Sir Top and slave bonnie, two
wise BDSM educators, where I learned that slave bonnie was only ever allowed to
disobey orders of two kinds:
* Suicidal orders,
* Orders that would cause financial ruin.
The rest of the time, bonnie obeyed Top -- all the rest of the time.
Obviously, relationships like this are totally cool with me as long as they are -- say it with
me, everyone -- 100% consensual! Such relationships can also encourage the use of
interesting communication tactics, because many of the usual tactics don't feel right to the
participants. For example, these relationships often take place between people who feel
such a strong power dynamic that it would be almost impossible for the submissive to
feel comfortable safewording -- safewording can feel disconcertingly like a form of
resistance.
One way of dealing with this problem is for both partners to keep journals that are open
to the other partner. (With some couples, only the submissive keeps an open journal.)
They talk about their romantic feelings, they process their sexual encounters, they
articulate anxieties, etc. Sometimes a partner will give the other one journal prompts to
answer. The idea is that it's easier to express these things when there's a designated space
for it outside the relationship; the journals mean that partners (especially submissives)
can talk about what they need without fearing that they're undermining the power
dynamic.
I find the concept of simultaneous journals intriguing for a number of reasons. One is that
I've used similar tactics myself; I kept a private journal for many years, and once in a
long while I'd give entries to my partners when I needed to explain something
complicated about my feelings. I only did this a few times, ever, but it was really
effective when I did.
Later, I took to writing love letters that I noticed were very similar to both my journal
entries, and to the simultaneous relationship journals suggested for Master/slave couples.
I realized that I was writing letters because, at the time, I felt more comfortable writing
about my desires than talking about them. I've gotten a million times better at talking
about my sexuality honestly and shamelessly since then; but back then, there were
definitely things I wrote to my partners that I couldn't have said aloud. I also wrote
because -- just like Master/slave couples -- I wanted to communicate my feelings outside
the anxiety-inducing frameworks of the "serious discussion," the bedroom, etc.
So when I developed my sexual communication workshop, I encouraged love letters. I
gave two suggested points of departure for a love letter:
1) Describe what happened during a sexual encounter you had together, with particular
emphasis on what your partner did that you really liked -- and what you liked about it. ("I
love it when you fuck me" is a great thing to say, but you give much more information to
your partner if you say "I love it when you fuck me from behind," or even better, "I love
it when you fuck me from behind and it feels amazing when your balls hit my clit." [This
blog does not necessarily reflect the desires or encounters of Miss Clarisse Thorn.])
2) Describe a fantasy you have. Bonus points if you explicitly put your partner in it. ("I
like to imagine you sinking your teeth into me until I scream." This blog does not
necessarily... oh, who am I kidding.)
Postscript: In the comments on this piece, a reader noted that they might feel anxious and
pressured if a partner described them doing something specific. I hadn't thought of this,
but I totally believe that it could be a problem. Certainly, I've sometimes had experiences
writing to a partner where I described him doing something and he thought it was
ridiculously hot... but I've also done it and had partners dislike it. I guess my final advice
is that -- as with all communication -- you'll want to consider the audience, and be ready
to apologize.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2010/07/30/sex-communication-tactic-derived-from-sm-3-
journal-keeping/
* * *
* * *
* * *
COMMUNICATION:
[storytime] Sex Communication Case Studies
I wrote this post in 2011, years after the events in my coming-out story, and a long time
after I'd done all the above research into communication tactics. By 2011, I'd picked up
lots of sexual and BDSM experience with a variety of partners. I had just written a post
about my most destructive past relationship; the post got a lot of readers and was
eventually cross-posted to Jezebel. I wanted to do something positive with all the
attention, so I decided to offer a productive counterpoint.
* * *
Sex Communication Case Studies
In the wake of my last post, which was basically a meditation on one relationship with
bad sexual communication, I want to offer some positive examples of sexual
communication from my life.
* * *
1) Low pressure and leather belts. Years ago, when I was pretty inexperienced in the
community, I had a single BDSM encounter with a gentleman in his home. We met at a
BDSM discussion group, arranged to meet later at a cafe, and went home from there; as
we exited the cafe, I took his driver's license and texted his full name and license number
to a friend. (I think more people should do this, frankly -- in fact, more non-BDSM
people should do this when they go home with strangers from bars.)
We sat together on the public transit and quietly discussed the upcoming scene: he asked
me many, many questions about what I was okay with and not okay with. Questions like:
"What do you have experience with?" "Could you go into that more?" "What do you
like?" "What makes that fun for you?" "Is there anything you really don't want me to do?"
He asked a lot of the questions twice, too, which I think is a really great strategy
especially with new partners. People don't always have their heads together enough
during these conversations to answer an S&M question properly the first time, especially
if it's a broad and open-ended question like "What are the things you really don't want to
do?"
I made it clear that I just wanted a BDSM encounter, that I wasn't up for oral sex or
vaginal sex or anything like that. He'd never had a BDSM encounter that didn't involve
orgasm, so it was a new concept for him, but he was cool with trying it.
After our long discussion of boundaries and limits, we made it to his apartment and
settled in. He got out some equipment, including a collar, and he said: "While you're
wearing this, you will obey everything I say. Do you have any final boundaries to set?
Anything you really want me to do? Anything else you don't want me to do?" I said no,
and he snapped on the collar. (We did have an agreed-upon safeword, though -- so I had a
way of interrupting the proceedings if I really needed to.)
It was an interesting encounter, partly because he was looking more for dominance
(giving orders) than sadism (inflicting pain), whereas at the time I was looking more for
masochism (receiving pain) than submission (accepting orders). So we started out with
him giving me a bunch of orders (primarily to fulfill his kink), and then in the end he hit
me a lot with a leather belt (to fulfill mine). At the time I was still figuring out where the
boundary was for me: whether I identified as a submissive or only a masochist; how
much submission and masochism were intertwined. That night showed me a lot about
how one can create submissive energy within a pre-defined space, even with someone
you barely know.
Afterwards, when I was done crying, he took off the collar and we went to bed. (By that
time of night, I didn't have a way back home from where he lived, so I had to sleep over.)
We chatted about random things, neither of us quite tired enough to sleep. Within half an
hour or so, he realized that there was no way he was ever going to get to sleep unless he
had an orgasm, but he also understood that I didn't want to have sex with him, so he
didn't try to push that. Instead, he said: "I really need to have an orgasm before I can get