community commentary

18
Jan
2024

Many male event hosts don’t “get” abuse, and I love that for them.*

That headline probably sounds like I’m being sardonic.

I’m not.

Genuinely: I love that so many male venue owners and event hosts just… have no concept of how certain things are abusive and what that means. This isn’t sarcasm or putting them down; it’s a realization that their lack of understanding stems from never experiencing such abuse themselves (unlike the many men who silently suffer–this is not to them.) I love that they are so far removed from intimate harm that they often don’t consider reports of abusive behavior to represent an immediate threat. I love that they haven’t had to go through these things, that they haven’t had close friends go through these things.

But I grew up female in America. So I have.

A lot of things have changed in my ten years in the scene, but this is something that hasn’t. All the time, friends and loved ones go to event hosts to warn them that one of their attendees or vendors or instructors has done and could continue to do serious damage to others — and all the time, they hear back something along the lines of “I know him, and he’s never shown any behaviors like that,” or “Let me know if you hear about anyone else with your experience,” or “Do you have any witnesses or proof?” Some even go as far as saying, “I’m sorry that happened to you, but that doesn’t make him a threat.”

I love it for them that they have no understanding of how private, insidious, and intermittent abuse can be, that they don’t grasp how abusers can present themselves as kind and caring in person, despite having said or done horrible things hours before.

I love it for them that they can think people who abuse and assault and rape would leave behind tangible evidence.

I love it for them that they get to view “stealthing” (the act of removing or not using a condom someone else asked for) as something that may just occur spontaneously because a night got particularly spicy, rather than recognizing it as an act that more and more, in certain states, could literally lead to the victim’s death.

I love it for them that they get to assume all abusers would mistreat every partner they have. That their life experiences leave them blissfully unaware of the countless reasons why a current partner may deny their significant other’s capability of such acts, or why they may speak ill of their partner’s exes. That they can still believe that a so-called “past abuser” seamlessly transitioning into a picture-perfect new relationship absolves them of past misconduct.

But I don’t love it for the rest of us.

For the attendees who may well meet and be charmed by these individuals at such venues, only to be harmed later on.

For the potential students or fans who perceive a “respected” venue hosting someone as an endorsement of that person’s safety, only to suffer for it in the future.

For the victims who strive to create safer parties, vending rooms, conventions, only to be subjected to unrealistic expectations of being a more perfect victim.

And no. I’ll say it now. Not all men. Not all male event hosts do this; some are excellent and curate safe and engaging spaces. Not all event hosts who do this are male, and I’ll go as far as to say that the event hosts I know of who have done this most egregiously are not.

But the majority of those who do it—in my experience—are.

If this is you—if you ever have said anything like “I spoke to his partner and they haven’t had that experience” or “I just can’t ban him without proof” or the examples above, even if you have said it nicely–I want you to consider what kind of space you’re actually trying to create.

I want you to ask yourself if the at max 1 in 10 risk* of banning someone who is actually safe outweighs the 9 in 10 risk you could grant abusers more access to more potential victims.

And if it does, then say to the person who approached you, “I’m sorry, but I can’t let the 90%+ chance this happened to you keep me from the ticket sale/the fact I enjoy their company/having the extra body filling the space.”

If you aren’t willing to say that out loud?
Think really hard about why that is.

And feel grateful for your life. I want you to know that I genuinely love that you don’t “get” this. May you grow to understand it. May that understanding never have to be from you experiencing what those victims have yourself.


*Most studies report the chance of false accusations being well under 1 in 10; I’ve gone with the research’s most generous number for the sake of those who would argue it could be higher than the average.

Posted by vahavta
18
Jan
2024

*On if “Make Me a Masochist” is an Impossible Goal

I recently came across a status with concerns about classes with titles like the one for one of my own most popular classes, “Make Me a Masochist: Changing Your Relationship with Pain.” I don’t begrudge the person who wrote it (or anyone who replied to it feeling similarly) for their concerns. Nevertheless, I *do* stand by the title, and I want to tell you why — partially for people who might not be sure if the class is for them, and partially for anybody who thinks there’s nothing they can do for their pain tolerance.

This is a slightly edited version of my response to that comment. A warning: I’m going to spoil the magic.

I agree. You can’t just make someone a masochist in the pain = pleasure way. More on this in a second. The “Make Me a Masochist” title is a quote of something that gets said to me pretty often and why the class was originally developed and I think it’s an actively bad/impossible request.

I *also* think the “I want to take more” rhetoric is actively dangerous and harmful… very much so. Even more so, the desire to get bigger bruises. It’s a huge problem and [something I write and speak against pretty frequently.](https://fetlife.com/users/3055227/posts/3428272) That said, a friend corrected me years ago on a misbelief that masochism could only mean directly interpreting pain as pleasure. In how “masochism” was initially defined, when it was considered a mental illness (another issue entirely, but I digress!), it simply meant enjoying or desiring pain. That’s it. The definition, it turns out, did not actually differentiate between if it’s actually enjoying pain physically, just enjoying suffering, or enjoying receiving pain for other reasons.

If someone is taking the class, I assume they (or their partner(s) on their behalf) are already interested in this. They all have their own reason why they want to enjoy their S/m scenes more or have them last longer, be that intimacy, suffering for service, or whatever it may be. So they’re masochists. Congrats: if you’re coming to the class, you’ve likely already qualified for this category without me.

There are 100% real pain processing techniques that can be used in the moment to help get past the catastrophizing of pain to help you be able to focus more on those reasons. A real-world case-in-point? Lamaze breathing. Now, acute pain is very different from other pain processing techniques, something I know well as someone who is disabled. Pain in scene is a totally different ballgame from pain when I’m balled up in bed unable to move, but those acute processes certainly can be helpful and taught for some (though I’m sure not all) — I’ll never forget after teaching this class at a convention when, the next day, someone told me they used something they learned in class to get their heavy luggage out to their vehicle! Moreover, there are small things in how bottoms warm up for, move and operate within, and treat their bodies after scenes that sets them up for failure. Knowing these things can help more than we realize.

The class description itself usually gives a fairly accurate rundown of what I teach in summary. That being said, here are a few of the concrete things that I go over:

  • The kinds of habits that help us to recover from and evaluate pains in daily life, so that we can start scenes from the best possible place for our individual bodies (rather than from elevated pain levels that already decrease scene time to get to our personal limits)
  • Body awareness and what the physical differences are between “good pain” and “bad pain” so that we can talk our minds out of catastrophizing things that aren’t emergency issues and that we can better evaluate when an actual physical “I have to stop this now for my own safety and future scenes” occurs
  • Mobility and warm-up techniques, one of my areas of actual expertise, as the way many kinksters stretch before scenes actually creates micro-trauma in muscles that will again change the “starting point” of a scene and decrease time to personal limit
  • Ways to collaborate productively and additively with tops during and post-processing scenes based on our own experiences so that they are setting us up for success, too

My own philosophy as an educator here is that managing your relationship with pain is multi-systemic and involves behaviors that are both constant and consistent. There *are* in-the-moment techniques that work for some, but that’s just one portion of my class and I think probably the case for most who get asked to teach this sort of thing regularly. If someone doesn’t want to enjoy S/m, I can’t make them. But if something is getting in their way? Maybe I have strategies that help.

Body/mind/exercise science, communication and relationship skills, and personal mindfulness and body awareness are certainly all teachable. Nobody should ever feel obligated to learn them. Nobody should ever feel like being able to “take more pain” is needed for anyone, themselves or anybody else. But if they want to? If that’s an active desire? There’s nothing wrong with learning or teaching the above. That much, I feel sure of.

Posted by vahavta
18
Jan
2024

The idea that consent must be enthusiastic is a privileged take on the world. (No, this isn’t a CNC post.)

Once, I would have told you that it’s not consent must be enthusiastic and informed. I would have told you that someone who says “yes” without it ever reaching his eyes and voice or who says it in a way that shows reluctance is someone who doesn’t consent at all. I would have told you that if every second of bumping uglies doesn’t make you wanna whistle, that means you should stop immediately.

I wish I were still so naive.

Because today, I know that the idea that consent must be enthusiastic is an outlook that is incredibly ableist.

That’s not to say that anyone, disabled or otherwise, can’t say “it’s only consent for me if I’m displaying typical signs of enthusiasm.” Only that teaching this as universal ignores the nuance required in a more diverse world.

Let me explain. I have disabling chronic illness. I write and speak on it; I’m not shy about it. I don’t know if that makes me an exception or not, but I do know there are far more disabled kinksters out there than we realize. Those who aren’t yet are likely only that way temporarily: on a long enough timeline, everyone will, at some point, experience something physically disabling.

And though this is not exactly the case for all disability, for many of us—particularly those with some illness involved—that means fatigue. That means nausea and vomit. That means blacking out. That means medications that affect my energy. That means depression, stress, and physical pain I can’t masochist out of.

If I only had sex when I was enthusiastic about it, I wouldn’t have a sex life.

To be clear, consenting enthusiastically at some point, in whatever form that takes for someone, including with no signs beyond communicating it exists, IS necessary. What I am arguing against is the consent model that I was taught, where consent must be given enthusiastically every time. I do see the value in that too, as someone from a state that didn’t think women in marriages could be raped until very recently. I do think that long-term consent can be problematic for some and comes with higher risk. I am especially wary as I have had numerous friends assaulted in those situations. But I’m also saying that the “consent enthusiastically in a verbal or visible way before each sexual encounter” excludes many, and that we shouldn’t do that just to cater to who we perceive as the norm.

I’m all for affirmative answers. I think showing a willingness to proceed and having a part in decision-making matters. But I don’t feel comfortable saying that sexual consent requires in-the-moment enthusiasm or enjoying what is happening when it’s ongoing. I don’t think it even requires enjoying not enjoying it, as some of us sometimes do. A choice to be involved, sure. But enthusiasm? No.

Libidos don’t always match up. They match up even less when your ability level is a shifting one. I’ve frequently despaired that the nights I’m horniest are somehow the ones I’m the most laid up. And on the other end, I’ve had spells of being almost angry if my partner doesn’t want to on the days that I’m well enough. Those are the times I’m not actually taking my desires into account—the times I discount *both* our emotional needs in a moment and prioritize only our physical states. No. Not for me. And exactly right for some others. But for me, this turns sex into something my relationship checks off a list, and I will not have that life.

I am able to be enthusiastic some days. I am. Seriously thrilled. Sometimes, sex does look like the consent education videos of my more naive pseudoactivist days, back when I didn’t consider the bodyminds that weren’t like mine was at the time. Other days, for many of us, it looks like dragging ourselves to bed because we clearly wanted to fuck earlier, so let’s go ahead now even though I’m no longer flirty and fun. It may look like little to no signs of affirmation for me because any reactionary energy I have, I’m saving so I can let go when I come. It does, in these cases, look like many varied, intense, often lengthy, sometimes tearful conversations over time:

I’ve had to communicate that I do want to when I don’t want to (in so very many ways), that I don’t always know if I’ll be capable of physical enjoyment and that I don’t always appear to be experiencing pleasure, no matter what the truth is. I’ve had to literally say, “If I seem unwilling to participate, just remind me that I actually am,” even when not talking about CNC. The me in those moments knows that the me in the sick ones still has that desire locked inside her, and that some routes there require a mentality of getting sex started when I still really don’t want to. The me in those moments knows that I’m glad the sick me sucked it up (lol, sucking).

I’m not saying that reluctance or lack of enjoyment doesn’t mean a lack of consent. I’m also not saying you can’t have a preference to only go forward if there are pink clouds and clicking heels. I *am* saying some people with that preference are absolutely leaving some other people unsatisfied. And I’m definitely saying this:

Respecting other people’s bodily autonomy, particularly that of non-normative lives, means respecting our own knowledge that our words don’t have to match how we feel to be valid. Respecting disabled sexuality means accepting what we tell you is a “yes,” even if that comes with hesitation.

Consent is an affirmation. It isn’t an emotion or personality trait.

An enthusiastic yes right before or whenever it needs to be confirmed during sex? I can’t promise that. I can’t even promise a lack of reluctance.

But I was enthusiastic about the idea in advance. I am enthusiastic in theory.

And I get to say that’s enough.

When I’m engaging in something sexual, I may be too exhausted to smile. I may cringe as I negotiate dizziness against thrusts, or the skin sensitivity that makes me pull away against the hand I do want around my throat. I may not give any noises of enjoyment or signs I want to be there. I may not want to be there the whole time. I still want to have been there.

And—whether I reach a point where the endorphins temporarily overtake things or not—in the moments after, lying in bed with weighted blanket and bucket and pills and braces scattered on our floor, I will nestle my head close to His, listen to His threats whispered like secret poetry, sometimes lurch up in discomfort, and bask in the incredible intimacy that is our trust that not today, but tomorrow, I will be singing for joy that this happened.

Endnote: my saying this goes for some in no way means it goes for all. I simply think any world in which we don’t ask “what does consent look like for you and your body specifically?” and teach it looks like a particular behavioral reaction is one that favors certain parts of the population. As the brilliant @_Pavlov_ points out in this extremely important writing on Fetlife, disabled folx face increased dangers and concerns when it comes to consent violation and abuse, and to go forward believing hesitancy will always = consent when someone is disabled is a misread of what I’m trying to say.

If you want to join in on the conversation in the comments of the post on Fetlife, you can find it by clicking here.

Posted by vahavta
18
Jan
2024

Why Younger Kinksters Don’t Attend Your Venue

My brother quit his job last week after five years at the same company. He loves what he does—he’s in human health services, and the families are great—but he’s been pretty mistreated. His really reasonable complaints have been brushed off, and he was often berated for things not his responsibility. He stayed as long as he could stand it, but when he started to look for somewhere else to work a month ago, he found out his skills are incredibly in demand. He got three job offers, all at least double his current salary—and so he quit.

I often hear my and younger generations criticized for… well, for a lot. But a big one is a “lack of loyalty”. I’ve seen it said we have “no sense of what it means to have a career with a business” and that we’re just willing to pick up and job-hop whenever. I don’t think that’s untrue. But the thing is, it isn’t about a lack of loyalty at all. It’s about wanting to be valued and treated well.

When my brother sent in his notice, the company announced the closure of that branch the next day. Turns out, he was the only reason they were sticking around in that area. Which begs the question, I think: why weren’t they better to him? Why would he stick around? Of course his complaints not being addressed would eventually cause him to leave. And this company decided they’d rather cut services and jobs for a bunch of people than just listen to him. They just… let it die. And let his subordinates blame him, of course.

I see the same thing happening in kink. I’ve been around seven years now, and it seems like any time a venue shuts down due to low attendance, there’s an outcry about how the younger generations caused this. They just don’t care about their community space. They just don’t want to give back and build something good the way people used to. They need to show up for everyone. It’s their fault, and other finger-wagging.

And I think every time… but we do. We do care about community, very much. We do want to give back. We’ve tried to build something good. We’ve been cut down at every turn.

So why would we be loyal? Why would we keep trying with those venues who say it’s a “community space” but don’t value us as community members? Why wouldn’t we go to the places that will instead?

Methodology and disclaimers

Over the last few days, I’ve reached out here, on Twitter, and on Instagram to get personal accounts from those in the Millennial and Gen-Z age ranges on why they no longer go to venues they see as primarily an older crowd. I got over forty answers to this, from people who span a range of genders, ages, and kink roles. This isn’t about one specific place—the responses came from coast-to-coast in the US, as well as a few from Canada and overseas—but they in many ways echoed each other. The reasons we stop showing up? They’re the same reasons. The ways we’ve felt mistreated? They’re identifiable. And none of it is about a lack of willingness to give back.

I’ve compiled the most common themes in these stories below—many overlap—and will mention a few of the important other one-off answers at the end. Anything in quotes is directly from an answer, though bolding may be mine. As this is a note that is sort of arranged as a letter informing older venues of why they’re really lacking in youth attendance, I may use “you” to refer to those spaces, and “we” to refer to people in my age group.

When I posted this, I also got a few unsolicited messages from self-identified Boomer friends (no, no Gen X-ers, actually) who felt they knew the answer to my question and wanted to give their input. They told me how my generation is entitled—“no offense”—and about the trends they’ve seen. But I’m an open-minded little ethnographer so where relevant, I’ve included these answers as well.

I initially expected this writing to be about public venues dying in favor of private home parties, but that isn’t what ended up happening. To this end, “the owner” and “management” should be seen as interchangeable with “host,” “party-thrower,” or whatever version of that fits best.

Finally, though I don’t mention it every time, many of my conversations included an acknowledgment that these issues can happen anywhere, including majority-younger spaces. However, people seemed to agree that they’re much more likely to occur at the older ones.


We don’t feel like our safety will be protected.

“If I avoid an event, it is […] because the event has utterly failed to create a space that feels safe (by failing to exclude toxic or violent individuals)”

Over 85% of the answers I received included some semblance of the above theme. Their failing venues, people told me, were places with “a rep as a rapey space where newbies get preyed on”, where consent wasn’t really valued by the main crowd and violations weren’t handled by the management. 1 in 4 of these answers also included that they felt (or had first-hand experience that) they would personally be attacked and shunned if they were hurt and spoke about it. “No drama” policies were mentioned often.

Sometimes, there were explicit issues with the attendees’ ideas surrounding consent:

“An older Kinkster, apparently a community leader, lectured the crowd about how they didn’t believe in long term abuse or domestic violence. If you stay, you’re consenting and the result is a D/s dynamic, negotiated by your continued presence. Absolutely no one argued.”

The bigger issue, however, was there being no established protocol for reporting consent violations. Since there was nothing in place to follow if a friend of the management violated consent, there was no trust any action would be taken at all.

“The community leader assured us that we could tell them if we were sexually assaulted, but that no one had ever complained of a sexual assault before, because they were so safe. It wasn’t until after I was sexually assaulted that I realized how uncomfortable it would be to be the first drama causer ever who complained about a sexual assault.”

“When I asked what would be done if my assaulter RSVPed, I was told that the venue was large enough that *I* could avoid *them*, and that the owner would use “gut feeling” to deal with any issues arising.”

“Somebody was raped in a private room and the management said that unless there was a witness, they couldn’t do anything. Of course they could do something! It’s their place!”

“No sexual assault policy had been mentioned, so I reluctantly headed towards the community leader, trying to decide whether to tell them about a sexual assault I had experienced a few minutes before, wondering if they’d believe me. When I saw they were too busy having sex to be bothered, and I knew of no one else available to get feedback like this, I gave up and just left.”

The responses also recognized that this is a difficult thing to navigate and that it isn’t necessarily even an age specific problem. “I get that the volunteer community leaders aren’t at fault for this problem,” someone said about an event they used to attend. “I feel for them.” But, multiple people told me, the idea of a “community protected” venue left a bad taste in their mouths. “It doesn’t make me feel safe or valued, in hindsight, being a human shield against strangers’ stalkers multiple times.”

Additionally, people told me they don’t feel their futures are safe when around these venues, with five accounts of people believing they were being photographed while in a dungeon. One person told me “a community leader tried to pressure us into putting face pictures onto our profile, insisting our bosses wouldn’t care if they found them”, and someone else spoke of the owner of a venue alluding to [the younger person’s] sex life when running into them at their restaurant job.

Perhaps this is universal. This same issue is actually something one Boomer told me is an issue with us:

“Kink still isn’t acceptable in most custody cases, divorce cases, work related cases, and some family cases. But the prevalence of people who don’t appreciate that fact has risen. […] The newbies who were more tasters than kinky started making it party central or a casual trial place. […] I really started to get scared when they brought in a much more casual attitude toward discretion.”

Ironically, I discovered while writing this that a majority-older venue local to me has been cavalier with the face photos of many, though I believe this to be primarily a technology/security knowledge issue and not a malicious one (though carrying no less risk).

We experience a blatant disregard for boundaries, negotiation, and our own agency and knowledge.

What did come out as an age specific problem was a blatant disregard for the agency of a young person (most often someone femme-of-center) when it came to their bodies and their kinks at all.

“I don’t want to be in a space where people just come and put their hands on you” or some semblance of that statement was in almost ¾ of my Millenial + Gen-Z answers.

Some of the stories I found absolutely horrifying, though not unexpected:

“My partner shared [a] possible kink. The community leader proceeded to yell out to a random person who shared this possible kink with my partner and told them loudly what they had in common (something extremely vulnerable for my partner to admit aloud). While my partner was occupied with the resulting more intimate than intended conversation with a complete stranger, the event leader asked me if they could try something with me. Before I could answer, they were behind me running sharp nail points over my back. They told me this was a mind fuck because I didn’t know if it was a knife. […] They pulled out a furry thing and asked me to hold out my hand. I wasn’t informed about what could be under a furry thing then. I was still very new to this. Something soft seemed harmless enough. Sensation play, right? I didn’t want to piss this person off who knew where I worked now. I was surprised to feel needles pricking my skin. I wondered who else’s blood I might have just exposed myself to. Did the needles break my skin? No blood, just red marks, but I still felt very uncomfortable and creeped out. Did I need an STI test? I wasn’t sure.”

The people who told me these stories did believe this had to do with a perception from older people of why young people are in the scene in the first place, as well as a perceived “innate knowledge of what [we] want by the older-and-wiser Boomer crowd.” Though not always in terms of consent and boundary violations, the older-and-wiser assumption came up in over half of the answers I received.

“When I first joined, many looked at me, spoke […] as if I’m not here for anything other than reckless fucking. […] A lot of men at my first event held me in a way that I was absolutely uncomfortable with at the age of 18.”

“It seemed as if they believed age automatically equaled wisdom, and therefore I was devoid of any, but my mentor spoke of his mentor groping whatever rope bottom came his way as if it was some hilarious thing.”

“I stopped going to the Power Exchange group stuff because it was 100% cis-het male dom run and they kept mansplaining our kink to us, talking down to the femme organizers, and telling us we would “pick a side because switchiness wasn’t real.””

“It was really hard for me to go to events at specific venues because the majority of people who go have an unspoken air of contempt for me, and it makes me feel out of place. I feel awkward, like a little child. I get it, I’m inexperienced, and I’m young. But I believe we all were this age once, right? […] I got, and still get the “you’re too young to know this” thing.”

A Boomer respondent let me know that they think the younger crowd has “an unrealistic idea that they can just come and not participate” and that they are “too sensitive about permission for everything in a sexual space.” They did not respond when I asked for more information on this statement. They and another Boomer both mentioned they believe the youth have a paranoia over something that’s not an issue.

The “old guard” community is worrisome to us.

A Boomer said: “VERY few younger folks are interested in that lifestyle. That lifestyle is all about service/honor/and commitment. Something that younger generation hasn’t developed an appreciation for yet.”

Millenial and Gen-Zers said:

“When someone tells me they’re “old guard”, I know immediately that they’re about to treat me like meat.

[Assaulters don’t get banned, and] “some of why they might still be allowed to go could be the association with the “old guard” mentality”

“The old guard is incredibly rude to any dynamic that doesn’t look like male/female M/s.”

“I don’t need to call anyone by a title whether they “earned” it or not. That is an expectation in Old Guard mentality that needs to be gone away with. There should be no expectation of hierarchy within kink as a whole.”

“Old guard kinksters are people who I know will never protect me.”

Our scenes get interrupted.

“There’s no universe where I’m going drive an hour and pay money only for a microcelebrity with a following of 10ish to interrupt my scenes needlessly.”

A number of stories pointed to experiences of basic scene etiquette being ignored both by attendees and by venue management. Though not in every case—the above answerer is male—these most often came from female and femme tops.

“I was mistreated, disrespected, and patronized as a young femme top. [..] It got so bad I literally couldn’t do a scene without being interrupted and “corrected” by DMs/random strangers. That’s really why I stopped going. It was super upsetting to my bottoms.”

“A male rigger my height and weight could have his scene entirely left alone, but people would literally step into mine and put their hands on my rope and even my bottom to lift them. They said I was “too tiny” and that I needed the help.”

“As a female topping another female, my play was not taken seriously. Men would gather and shout out suggestions of where I should hit my bottom next, or ask if they could have a turn. Or they’d tell me after what I should do next time. This included DMs. […] It was as if we were giggling sorority girls, not people having a serious power exchange. I never saw this happen with a male top.”

We only exist to be other people’s fetishes.

“There are perfectly nontoxic (usually older) attendees who have a real talent for making either me or my partner feel like a piece of meat by virtue of existing in their presence. That might be nice, if only they could hold off for long enough to say hi, and negotiate something that targeted that more deliberately.”

In addition to the stories in the last section—which I think in many ways aligns with this—I got both direct and subtler accounts of younger people being fetishized. In addition to the personal experience accounts below, there were a handful of stories of youth being used as an advertising factor, where potential attendees are told in visible online spaces that management will find them a “cute young toy”, or the presence of college-aged kinksters was discussed in event descriptions.

Indirect ways people saw themselves as fetishized at majority-older events included:

  • ”Private and vetted” [meant] any girl got a link no questions asked but dudes needed references.”
  • “They welcomed 2 girls together, but 2 guys would never be seen”
  • “If the runner who was also the event photographer didn’t want to fuck you they would never take your photo at the event”
  • “It seemed to be expected that since we were ‘unattached’ bottoms, we would play with their doms.”

Fetishizing things younger kinksters told me were said to their face include:

  • “I’ve never been with an Asian before.”
  • “Girls your age like to experiment, but it’s just because they haven’t experienced what an older man can do.”
  • “It’s good to see bodies like yours here. Your tits are where they should be!”

While I haven’t had this conversation, I think that many of the older kinksters doing this may genuinely think they’re complimenting us. It seems to be part of the perceived over-sensitivity culture. The issue is that when you turn us into advertising, we get the message that you prioritize your own generation’s opportunity to play with young bodies over the young folks’ autonomy.

One of my Boomer responses “the youth of today are more “me oriented” Whats [sic] in this for me?” (He did acknowledge that this was once said about his generation.) Ironically, a common thing keeping us away is that we feel these older generations put themselves and their sexual desires above ours.

We are told we aren’t driven to be a part of the community, but when we are in community, we are not treated like a part of it—we are treated like something for it.

Our identities themselves aren’t respected.

I expected a number of responses would have to do with a lack of willingness from older generations to accept nonbinary pronouns or some expressions of sexuality, but what I wasn’t prepared for was the number mentioning casual (or aggressive) use of the f-slur (and not in a spirit of reclamation). Being made to feel unwelcome as a minority in gender, sexuality, race, and ability were all brought up multiple times.

It doesn’t seem from the answers I got that we necessarily expect immediate total understanding and acceptance, but we do want leaders who will do the work required to figure it out.

“I was there to learn, but was constantly held directly responsible for educating about my identities and/or my partner’s identities. […] I’m here for a break, selfish as that may be.”

When we do try and make things better, we’re met with terrible responses.

And this brings be back to the issue at the beginning. We’re trying. We try to bring up problems, and often suggest solutions. We are then turned away, laughed at, or ignored. “If we complain, we’re snowflakes obsessed with identity politics” was a common theme. I firmly believe that the number one thing that majority-older spaces can do to get younger people in is to show they’re willing to change with their communities. People mentioned how often their local older leaders make fools of themselves when presented with new ideas:

“They give me a laundry list of excuses why they can’t/don’t/won’t. […] Which tells me that frankly, they don’t want to, and they genuinely don’t care. If they did they would take the criticism graciously and implement the solutions. They want to put on airs as if they do and advertise as if they do, but the bottom line fact of the matter is that: they don’t.”

This is where I expect to get the most backlash, because I know how this will be responded to: we don’t agree with their politics (of wanting to be accepted). We don’t agree with their idea of what being violated is. We don’t agree with language changing. Why should we have to? Why do we have to respond nicely and take these suggestions we don’t agree with?

And the answer is, you don’t. But I think it’s telling that companies like Starbucks and Coca-Cola are now featuring indicators of their acceptance of NB identities and the like in their advertising. Don’t get me wrong—it is advertising. But it is an important sign that some of the biggest companies out there have decided that the money of the people who appreciate these things is worth more than the money of those who are against it. If the money and attendance of young people is important to your space, this is important to consider.

Other answers

The main categories I gave certainly weren’t the only answers, but none of what I heard was “I don’t want to give back to the community.” Some told me of ways they felt the community didn’t really exist at all (something which I think connects back to the fetishization topic):

“When we started to pull away from the BDSM community, we lost our friends, too. We found out how little we meant to friends that we thought cared for us. Turns out, they only cared about the fact that we were pleasant to talk to at BDSM events.”

Others told me that they want community, but not the one the majority-older spaces offers.

“The first thing that happened was that groups started valuing play time over discussions. Even if there were discussions, many wanted to just get the discussion part over with so they could start playing. I enjoyed the discussions most of all, but the demand for play parties outnumbered those of us who just wanted to talk about BDSM.”

Several people brought up how the majority-older venues tend to be too expensive for them, and acknowledged this may not be something that they can control—though simple economics does mean that if they took steps to solve some of the above problems and more younger folks came to their events, these prices could go down and this problem could be solved.

And finally, I do want to mention I got one answer who said that while they didn’t relate to older generations, they also found Millennial-led spaces to be overly political and unwelcoming to any kind of political moderate, and therefore didn’t attend much at all.

Conclusions

“I just can’t find enough reasons to participate. Maybe if the cost wasn’t so high, or I was guaranteed to get something out of it, or the people were genuine, or the leaders cared about more the community than themselves, I would come back.”

Something that is true about younger people—in jobs and in kink—is that we have learned to take care of ourselves. Something else is that a lot of us are very busy. Or we live far. Or we’re ill. Or we have too much student debt and a limited social budget. And that isn’t the fault of older people.

But what it means—at least for me–is you can’t give me any opportunity to say no. I can play at home without getting interrupted, so why would I go to a venue where I know the interruption is likely to happen? I have my own community that supports me and my kinky pursuits, who knows me and loves me, so why would I go somewhere that only sees me as eye candy?

And people learn from experience, and repeated experiences do turn into (informed) biases. And that’s where you come in, older venues who are looking to increase your younger attendance.

Here are our experiences. You own your own spaces, and you have a right to do whatever you want with them, to make the changes and the rules and the culture you’re happiest with. So are you going to do it in a way that makes us want to attend? Or would you prefer to just let it die?

I offer my utmost gratitude to all who participated in this. Should you want to join in on the conversation in the comments of my writings, you can find the original Fetlife post of this one here.

If you wish to be a part of future “research,” be sure to subscribe to my substack. I do also post calls for responses on Fetlife several times before I finalize my posts.

Posted by vahavta
18
Jan
2024

We SHOULD talk about fitness and bottoming—but we need to do it better.

There’s a lot of talk right now about bottoming skills, and one complaint I keep seeing is how much focus is given to “physical fitness” as the gold standard of bottoming: how much that contributes to Western stereotypes of beauty, how that rebels against things we now know about difficulties and dangers of weight loss, etc. I will admit, my own class on pain processing does have a section emphasizing that regular exercise may contribute to ability there, so in light of all the recent discussion, I’ve been doing some thinking on this—and I think the problem is not talking about fitness and bottoming, but the way in which we are doing it.

I do believe fitness can be a very important element in a bottoming toolbox, but I think we need to hold these conversations and mentions in classes to a higher standard. I want to address a few of the things I think we should focus on, and a few of the things we can do better at. After, I would love to hear some of your thoughts and additions, and am very open to hearing the ways in which what I’m saying may be problematic. I do want to note that am coming from the standpoint of someone who has the time and resources to focus on this, and that isn’t universal. On the other hand, I also have chronic pain and injuries (not to mention medical debt) now that—while I cannot confirm—may have had something to do with not thinking about any of this at the start of my kink journey, so I think it’s an important thing to prioritize when possible. But we should keep in mind that the ability to eat healthily and go to gyms or join fitness classes is means-dependent.

Finally, before I start, we all should ask if what I’m about to say is even important or relevant to being a bottom. No. It isn’t. I would love for us all to eliminate terms like good bottom, talented bottom, what makes a better bottom, etc. Bottoming means lots of things, and it may have nothing to do with endurance or ability. At the heart of what we do are people. If you are having the connective scenes you want and avoiding harm, who cares?

That said. If you are a person to whom those things matter, or who might be interested in becoming more in tune with your body, here are some of my thoughts.

What forms of exercise are even important?

Go on Pinterest and search fitness. You’ll find lots of better beach body formulas, tricks for eliminating hip dips (spoiler: would need to change your skeleton in most cases) and toning your inner thighs (spoiler: can’t do both that and get a big booty, friends. Quads are hot, yo.) Outside of frequently just being ineffective fitness programs, we need to be careful of not saying these visual elements are what make a “fit” bottom or assuming someone is one just because they fit that body type. Here are a few things I think “bottoming fitness” should really focus on:

Awareness and knowledge of proper form and muscle activation in exercise. General practice in intentional movements will help body awareness become second nature to you. It will help you to learn more about good pain vs bad pain and what you should and shouldn’t push through; it will help you notice if you are holding muscles tight as a stress reaction in a way that causes you unnecessary discomfort; it will help you know on a daily basis what muscles are working, which are connected, and how that might impact what you should and shouldn’t do that day. And of course generally help prevent injury, as well.

Endurance and breathing. Regular exercise, done correctly, should teach you to breathe in moments of stress and tension. It gets you used to holding a higher heart rate for longer, which I believe helps you to regulate your own fight/flight response and “last longer.” It may help you train yourself in “pushing through the pain.”

Strength training, particularly around joints. We bend over, kneel, and stretch our arms above us on a cross. We need to help the places we hinge hold strong for the things that we do—particularly the shoulders and hips, which have the highest mobility and lowest stability. Sure, many can do these things without ever having built up their muscle strength, but what happens when you’re fatigued? If you find yourself having to stop scenes because of general aches and pains, maybe this is part of the problem. What if you slip? What if something hits the wrong way at the wrong force? Strong muscles around joints act as shocks, making you less likely to dislocate something. And I hope that when it comes to rope or stress position play, why this is important goes without saying.

Stretching correctly. For both rope bottoms and others, stretching is really important to avoid strain, cramps, and injuries—but doing it too much or in the wrong ways can cause them. Learning to stretch (and I do mean learning) as a fitness activity will help you understand the way your body can, should, and shouldn’t move (particularly important for rope, wherein you may want to tell a top how far your leg can extend for a sustainable amount of time before they start cranking it up there). It’ll make for healthier joints, which is good for all the reasons mentioned above. It creates better stability, balance, and posture, and it’ll raise your energy and lower your tension levels—which may help prevent you from having to stop a scene due to holding your muscles too tight and having pains that are unrelated to your scene.

What can we do better at when discussing fitness and bottoming?

It should be obvious by now that I don’t think we should avoid saying exercise can help you as a bottom–but that doesn’t mean that we’re doing it correctly. It’s important to note, whether as an educator or simply talking to friends, what might do more harm than good. Here are a few things I want to see more when this topic comes up.

Not stating what fitness is or looks like. Anyone remember that awful article that specified that a good bottom could do like, this and that type of plank for this long, this number of pull-ups, etc? Nope. Different bodies need different things. Further, discourage using ‘fit’ as the antonym of ‘fat’. Weight has very little to do with fitness (particularly since muscle weighs more than fat). When you talk about “being fit” as a bottom, talk about the reasons for doing it: stamina, injury prevention, and body awareness. Sure, many of us work out for aesthetics, and that’s fine too, but there is no reason that needs to be relevant to your kink.

Teaching about actual stretching health at the myriads of bottom flexibility classes. It isn’t enough to just go and show a bunch of stretches that feel good to you. We need to teach the difference between static and dynamic stretching, and that static stretching should not be done as a warm-up if you have been inactive. We need to talk about the difference between stretching and limbering and teach people that they shouldn’t do flexibility work-outs that cause micro-tears right before their scene. We need to teach about end-range of motion, what affects what muscle group, and so on–not just what is flexy and pretty.

Being upfront about limitations in expertise. If you have not gone through yoga (or whatever it is you’re leading) teacher training, this needs to be made explicit, and you should not be offering people modifications for injuries and ability level. I’m not saying it isn’t okay to teach these things–but if you’re painting yourself as an authority of this sport/activity, people might come in expecting you can deal with their unique situation, and you can’t. You can not. If you haven’t studied something with an expert (reading a lot online doesn’t count), learning the way that bodies other than yours work, then just mention you’re speaking from your own experience and cannot to others. I’d even suggest going as far as to put a disclaimer that those with any injuries or limitations should speak to a doctor before doing x. (And on the flipside, at this point I’d just say you should never assume someone in the community teaching any form of physical activity has any formal training until told otherwise and need to take everything they say with a grain of salt (myself included.))

Talk about fitness for tops, too. Joint health is *very* important for tops in both impact and rigging, and bettering their body awareness skills and knowledge of muscle groups will help them to be safer with their bottoms (and meaner, if so inclined.) When we mention it in a class meant for both sides but direct it only towards the bottoms, we’re passively reinforcing the idea of “a good bottom is fit” as opposed to “fitness is important.”

Focusing on injury prevention over ability. There need to be more classes and mentions of fitness focusing on common injuries that could be preventable (dislocations, strains, to some extent falls). That’s infinitely more helpful to kink than how deep your backbend is (and should even help someone be safer in their backbend, if that’s something that’s important to them!)

Speaking in terms of risk awareness. Finally, we should approach this as a tool and not a necessity. There is nothing inherently wrong with frequently being tied or standing in tough positions or whatever with absolutely none of this as a part of your life. It may, however, be more of a risk. That’s how we should recommend fitness: this is something that might make you less likely to get injured in a scene and more able to recognize what is or is not going on with your body. If it’s not your jam, that’s cool, just know it’s something that could affect you.

In quick summary, fitness is important—for both tops and bottoms—particularly when it comes to preventing our bodies from cramping or becoming stiff, which might end a scene prematurely or even lead to injury. It also can help you become more in tune with your body and more aware of how things should feel. It should be brought up in bottoming classes and it should be taught—but with language that considers what we really mean when we say “fit,” with honesty as to our own experience and body-knowledge, and with a focus on the reasoning behind it.

Health looks like a lot of things. Physical fitness, whatever that means, is one of these things. It isn’t the only, and it isn’t a must–but I don’t think we are doing anyone a service by avoiding it completely.

If you are a top here, I encourage you to check out this Fetlife post on physical health for riggers.

If you know of other similar resources, let me know. I’d actively like to add more.

Interested in having more bottoming education in your area? Check out the List of Bottoming Classes and consider hiring one of these fine folks or suggesting your local event do so!

Many thanks to just_bird, a fabulous physio-in-training who helped me fact-check and add a few things to this. If you want to join in on the conversation in the comments on Fetlife, you can do so by clicking here.

Posted by vahavta
18
Jan
2024

Please, Talk to His Sub*

Ah, (another) recurring kink community debate: getting the D-type’s approval to talk to the s-type.

I’ll start with my stance: I am a 24/7 CNC TPE sub (some might call this a slave) and I absolutely detest you doing this.

It’s not that I mind your idea of “proper” protocol, exactly.
It’s that you never do it in a way that’s actually respectful to our dynamic.

See, a dynamic comprises multiple people. That means that respecting our dynamic means respecting multiple people.
And that is never, ever the case.

Example the first:
We are at a convention a few years back. BigNamePhotoBro chats with us briefly trying to sell us something, then asks Owner’s permission to hug me. “Doesn’t bother me,” says Owner. BigNamePhotoBro goes to hug me, and I jump back and pretty much snap at him “you should probably ask my permission too.” Whether from that not occurring to him, or simply it not occurring to him I would say no, PhotoBro looks absolutely shocked. How odd, for a woman to get her own decision!

Example the second:
Every so often when He was more active, my Owner used to get messages that roughly resembled the following:

Hello! I absolutely love your dynamic. I admire vahavta’s subservience and masochism. May I friend you and her?

And then, receiving some semblance of “doesn’t bother me,” they friend me. Just… friend me. Even with a “message me first” in my profile, they just do it, because I guess messaging Him is the same thing somehow. I never get the compliment myself in these cases. Never.

There are others. People have even asked His permission to touch my whip marks on my body post-scene. All these situations make me just an extension of Him, and take something away from me. It shows me you don’t actually see me as a person. He doesn’t have to see me as a person. You do. If you asked both of us it would be one thing, but 99% of the time that definitely doesn’t happen.

And then there’s the case that the fabulous @NookieNotes writes about here, which inspired this.
If I were doing something my Owner didn’t like, talking to someone or in a way that He didn’t approve of, that would be His responsibility to tell *me* and my responsibility to stop. Even if He did reach out to them and tell them to back away—which He has, in the case of my abuser—if they continue, what happens next is on me. And I want it to be.

Because obedience is the cornerstone of this relationship.
Not coddling. Not shaping the outside world.
Shaping me.

And if He tells me to do something like that and I find that I am not comfortable doing it, then that inner struggle to stop, or the decision to ask Him why and maybe work things out differently, or to fess up and receive the consequences that might follow would be important. Those are the things that could teach me, reinforce the dynamic, allow me to do something which makes me feel more secure in my submission. That’s how this sort of thing grows. How people respond to their partner’s feelings on their actions is how any relationship grows.

If you’re trying to do something you think respects my dynamic, respect the whole dynamic. All of it. Obedience is a constant choice. Give me that choice. Let me decide. Trust I will do what I am supposed to. If you were hypothetically told to avoid me and decided to keep talking to me, I wouldn’t begrudge you the slightest, I would just respond how I should or talk to Him about doing things in a different way. And if you feel the need to ask Him about something and He says it’s cool and that makes you more comfortable that’s great, but your next step is to ask me.

Because if you don’t, Lord knows the answer will always be a “nope” on this end.

(And also, if you’re going to be a douche and you message Him with it, you’ve taken an opportunity to mock you and shut you down away from me and that’s totally unfair.)

Posted by vahavta
18
Jan
2024

It’s certainly not for everyone.*

Not a damn thing. (In life, probably, but this is about kink. Duh.)

I get asked about my protocol from time to time. The GPS tracking thing comes up a lot. For some people, that’s abuse — where you go is private; what if you needed to escape? And sure, I’ll give you the name of the app He uses to do it, but that doesn’t mean you’ll like it. My dear friend in California has a security camera in her room. I’d do it if He wanted, but meh. Seems like a bit much. It’s certainly not for everyone. (However, if you’re both into it and you’ve talked about it, it’s not abuse.)

Some people go to multiple events a week. I did often when I entered the scene. I’m outgoing, and I like watching and being watched, and I wanted to meet people in the context of other people. There are a lot of people who don’t, though, who may not even be on Fetlife. Meeting at events is *less* comfortable for them. They don’t care about any vetting but their own, and they don’t feel like they need to have other eyes on them when playing. They meet privately the first time. It’s certainly not for everyone. (However, if you’re both into it and you’ve talked about it, it doesn’t make you a predator.)

I don’t use safewords. Decided I couldn’t enjoy kink if I did. I’m also TPE and monogamous (and hence don’t do pick-up play), and I also don’t go into a kind of subspace where I can’t communicate. Maybe if these things weren’t true, I would use them. Maybe not. We’ve reevaluated whether this is right for us and always decide it is. I need to know there’s no way out, and He needs that absolute trust. It means I’m responsible for being totally open about my emotional and physical state. It’s certainly not for everyone. (However, if you’re both into it and you’ve talked about it, it’s not unsafe.)

Some people like race play, or age play, or dressing up like animals and making animal sounds. Some people like simulating their heads being chopped off with guillotines and some people like getting consnesually kidnapped or having their homes broken into. Some people like rope. Some people like being made to drink a lot of alcohol. Some of these would cause a breakdown and complete lack of trust for other people. It’s certainly not for everyone. (However, if you’re both into it and you’ve talked about it, it doesn’t make you problematic or a pervert.)

I’m monogamous. I tried doing things another way. I serve better when not with another. I can’t trust Love is really Love when it’s shared. On the other hand, some of my friends could never be monogamous. They can’t feel fulfilled and they wouldn’t be living in an honest way. They’d find the relationship style which makes me most vibrant and giving partner I can be to be stifling and boring. It’s certainly not for everyone. (However, if you’re both into it and you’ve talked about it, it’s not less enlightened or toxic.)

Some people don’t like aftercare. Some people don’t like to give it. Some people want to be brought cookies and some people want to be left alone and some of us want to be threatened instead. Some people can’t get out of their topspace like that, and are going to be at their most sadistic selves the rest of the night. Some people would find playing with those other people traumatic. It’s certainly not for everyone. (However, if you’re both into it and you’ve talked about it, it doesn’t make you uncaring.)

Some people like having different girls over each weekend. They do horrific things to all of them and fuck them without condoms and don’t necessarily keep in touch. They don’t really care if there is feeling involved; they’re just there to get and give some jollies. Others might see this as gross or emotionally removed or a popularity move. It’s certainly not for everyone. (However, if you’re both (all) into it and you’ve talked about it, it doesn’t make you a player.)

I’m sure you’re getting this by now.

There’s no one true way. So we all say. Hearing it and knowing it doesn’t necessarily mean we apply it to our judgements of others or ourselves. We’ve all come to this crazy kink world because some of the things we want are not what others would call normal. In doing that, we’ve set a lot of our own norms.

Nope. Do what you please. If everyone’s on board with it, and if everyone’s risk aware, fuck ’em. Fuck the community, fuck the rules, and fuck what your last boyfriend said about you. Fuck ’em.

However, if you put that camera in without telling someone then you might be crossing a line, and if you take the condom off without telling every single person you’re sleeping with (including the one you took it off with) you might be a criminal, and if you are only being monogamous in order to make it harder for your partner to leave you might be an abuser, and if you stick a rubber chicken up your partner’s butt when they didn’t previously know that was one of your kinks, you might be an ass-hat.

Or maybe you’re not. Maybe that’s cool in your relationship(s).
Not for me to say.

Posted by vahavta
18
Jan
2024

*Power Imbalance, Gender, and Bottoming Education

Any time I have used the word bottom in this post, it should be considered to apply to switches working from the bottoming perspective as well.

There’s been a lot of talk about consent, negotiation, “big name” tops (largely riggers) and so on in the past week or two. This has always been a problem and unfortunately, one we can’t seem to pay attention to without a recent consent violation. While the situations which brought this to the larger community’s attention are devastating and disheartening to say the least, we’re talking right now, and for that, I am glad. Don’t stop talking about it.

However, we’re missing something.
Yes. Let’s teach consent. Let’s teach negotiation. Let’s teach tops to hold each other accountable. Let’s support bottoms when they come forward or need resources, however we can.

But it just isn’t that simple.

How can we teach about consent and making needs known if we aren’t teaching about power dynamics? When you’re in an ongoing relationship with an inherent and chosen imbalance, it becomes more difficult to speak up. What about power dynamics that aren’t discussed but are implied, due to one person’s fame or position as an educator/leader? When someone is universally seen as a greater authority, it becomes more difficult to tell them they’re doing something wrong, even if you know otherwise.

How do we fix this?

It has to come from the bottom. We have to have bottoms speak about these things. Only those with the personal understanding of these particular positions can facilitate discussions with others about their experiences. Yes, there are tops with enormous knowledge to share, and bottoms can benefit a great deal from being at their classes. But to have a top be the one to teach about the hardships and the tools needed to better conduct yourself as a safe and empowered bottom *inherently* defies the point.

No doubt, tops can benefit from encouraging this as well. To expand bottoming education from consent and negotiation will build our confidence as bottoms, let us take a more active role in play, and give us the skills to improve our dynamics and relationships in a way which is sustainable and keeps us happy and fulfilled. Keeping your dynamics strong need not be your responsibility alone. Let us share that burden with you.

Let’s talk for a second about gender. One of the reasons I believe this is an issue is due to the majority of “big names” being male tops. While I can think of a number of excellent females (on both sides of the slash) who are brought out to teach, there’s vast imbalance in the presenter scene favoring relationships between male tops and female bottoms. I don’t begrudge this. I don’t see any problem with it. I’m all bottom; my Owner is all top. There’s no problem with those roles being assigned to those genders (by choice.) But the current lack of bottoming education is both a cause and an effect of a who is most publicly a bottom, and who is seen as fit to lead.

I want to be clear that, as both a feminist and an advocate for men’s rights, I’m not just speaking about the disempowerment of female educators. Due to the typical perceptions of masculinity, I believe that male bottoms do not feel comfortable loudly announcing their role in this way. This isn’t something I have any proof of, but the Fetlife member statistics alone show that there’s an extremely high number of men who identify as subs (the most populated of the gender-to-role categories, if I remember correctly — somebody tell me where I saw this). And yet thus far, I’ve only had one male bottom come forward as an educator while creating my list of bottoming classes (see link at bottom).

There’s one more issue to add, and it’s a result of all of the above (belief that bottoms don’t need educating on anything other than consent and negotiation, an excess of celebrity tops, gender disparity, and more).

Imposter syndrome.

When I was getting in touch with bottoms who I know are experienced and knowledgable, who have written wonderful things, who I myself have learned from through conversation, I heard something over and over again:

“Oh, I don’t have anything to say.” “I’m not sure anyone would take this.” And so on.

Who is telling you that? Why do you think that? If you’re giving your friends advice and having discussions with newbies who message you about what you’ve experienced, you are already an educator. Sure, if you have no desire to be in front of a group, that’s one thing. But if you believe you aren’t experienced enough or you don’t have anything to say, and you’re already saying things to others one on one… you’re wrong. You’re good enough. Create a class. Get it out there.

We can only work on these issues if we expand and change the way we present.
We can only change the presenter culture if we encourage and hire bottoms as educators.

And by doing this, we can only make our own lives, relationships, and communities better.

If you’re a venue owner or event organizer, please bring bottoms in to teach. If you’re not but would like to see this, please message your favorite venues and events. They want to bring people in—the more people that show interest, the more likely this is to happen.

Don’t know any bottoms who teach? You can start with the list of bottoming classes linked here.

Posted by vahavta
18
Jan
2024

Do you even YKINMKBTOK, bro?*

Yo, here’s a novel idea.

What if people who said YKINMKBYKIOK actually thought other people’s kinks were okay?

What if people DIDN’T say “rope is just bondage; it isn’t even a real scene! The obsession with it is all about vanity”?

Or “anyone who likes doing that to a woman is dangerous and an abuser, and if she says she likes it she has self-esteem issues”?

Or how about “anyone who uses the word Daddy/Mommy as an actual parent/child roleplay is sick and condones abuse!”?

Or “tickling is the lowest form of kink”? Or “if you think race play is a turn on, you need therapy”? Or “whip scenes are *so* show-offy, there’s no connection when you can’t even touch your bottom”?

Let’s try a few more: “Get your blowjobs off of K+P; exhibitionism isn’t really kinky.” “Pet play is one thing, but never go full furry.” “Doing needles on yourself is just an excuse to self-harm.” “Leather people are a bit too cult-y for me.” “I’d never ruin such perfect breasts with marks like that!” “Men into cuckolding are really sad.” “You’d loan your girl out? You must not really love her.” “Feet guys are just SO weird.” “Abandonment play is for lazy doms.” “Why do you let them call you such hateful things? You deserve better.” (And so on. Because those are all the same. Just so you know.)

What if, if you really needed to express that something freaked you out/you wouldn’t allow it in your venue/you didn’t get it, you just phrased it as “that freaks me out, but you do you!” or “that’s cool, but not in this space!” or “that one doesn’t make sense to me; what do you like about it?” or even “okay! Have a great time, bye!”

Or, to present something totally bold, what if you just shrugged and decided not to disparage other people when someone definitely thinks at least one thing you do is disgusting, weird, or really fucking boring? Especially if you’ve been in this community for years, have said YKINMKBYKIOK, and frankly should just know better.

Yeah? Cool.

This has been a 3 am post by your pissy neighborhood vahavta.

Posted by vahavta
18
Jan
2024

“You are hurting the new and impressionable,” or, why I will keep telling people I don’t use hard limits*

I don’t play with safewords or hard limits. While I have preferences, I have universally consented to anything my Owner wants to do to me. I’m very comfortable with this and also discuss/argue it frequently.

Today, I was told I am careless for discussing this openly, and that I may harm those new to kink by placing them in a position where they can be conned and manipulated.

After all: without a safeword or limit, somebody could hack me up with a chainsaw, or so I’m told.

Yes, it’s true. There are those who say “I won’t play with somebody if they insist on limits; it’ll cramp my style.” That’s a con. But there are also those who say “that is not the relationship/play I want. It has never been,” and who find those who say the same. The difference is active, mutual choice. Both parties wanting it, when all other factors are equal.

Let me be totally clear: if I had wanted this and a top did not, I would have respected that and not forced them into a style of play they didn’t consent to. I also would have known we would not be a long-term match. Just like preferences on age, gender, religious belief, amount of openness, and so on, this was an immovable preference for me (I suppose you could say having to give limits was a hard limit.) I think my partner would say the same. With casual play partners, I have used both things. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them — they just will not give me what I want in a relationship.

This works because nobody had to be talked into it, and because I have no fear of bringing it up if I should ever feel uncomfortable. This is something we discussed and have re-discussed over time. We are both fully capable of (and fully trusting of the other in) communicating our interests and the potential physical/emotional reactions involved, as well as communicating in-scene what is going on. Because of all this, He gets the final say.

I will continue to speak about this — how we do it, why we do it, why I can do it with Him, and so on — and I don’t think it is careless. I think new and impressionable people need to be told that there’s no such thing as a right answer in kink. I think there needs to be demonstrable cases of people building partnerships and scenes that look the way they want and saying “it is okay if your play is like this. It is okay for you to want this.” If, new to the scene, I had read people saying “the kind of relationship you want is going to be abusive every single time” I would never have sought my happiness.

Forgoing a safeword does not make you more likely to be a victim of assault. Neither does saying you do not have hard limits. To claim these things lead to assault is a form of victim-blaming wherein the assaulter is not fully responsible for their actions. Safewords can be good tools for those who use them. They are not the only way to do things. Discussion of interests, emotional transparency, and using words like “don’t touch me there again” or “the tie on my upper left arm needs to be moved down an inch” are also excellent tools.

There is nothing wrong with trusting the people you play with to have common sense. There is nothing wrong with expecting the people you play with to be honest about their desires.

There is nothing about playing on the edge that makes assault any more likely or warranted than any other time.

And besides, if someone were going to break my kneecaps without discussion if I didn’t list it as a hard limit, they weren’t going to listen to a safeword, anyway.

I came to kink wanting full surrender. I fantasized about helplessness and the turning over of control. I wanted to Love a man who I knew could kill me, and who I knew could take me through the full spectrum of human experience without doing so. For me to roleplay this, to still have a way out, would be to live unfulfilled.

And I am simply unwilling to compromise on my desires.


Note: since I first wrote this, it has come up that my monogamy may be considered a hard limit by some. I am referring here to what I have barred my Owner from doing to me and commanding me to do within the context of our dynamic and relationship, seeing monogamy as already essential to that context. I recognize and understand why others see it as the same as other hard limits and if this is the case for you, then yes, I do have a hard limit.

Posted by vahavta