Tag Archives: kink

Hurts

Kink and disability as a combination are often difficult to confront. After the injuries I sustained in an accident three years ago, I found myself having to reassess my own physical capabilities and acknowledge the subtle changes, beyond my control, that seemed to be happening within the relationships and power dynamics around me, both socially and in a BDSM context. It was, and is, frustrating beyond measure. Yet I still flinch at the idea of hurting a sub with medical issues in a way neither of us intend me to. By trying hard not to be a dick, I fear I’m being even more of a dick as a result and denying that person their own agency.

Here’s a brilliant, mind-opening article from Autostraddle from the point of view of a sub with cerebral palsy which addresses exactly that:

“…First time stories are always fun/mortifying, but that’s not the one I want to tell you, because that’s not the one that woke me up to the fact that my disability and sexuality have to breathe the same air. That happened about a month later, when Alex rolled over in bed and asked:

“So… how do you feel about bondage-y things?”

Remember for a moment that I had just gotten used to having sex at all. So my initial reaction was along the lines of UM WHAT I HAVE NO IDEA CAN I PHONE A FRIEND. But beneath that, I asked myself something else: how often are people this open about what they want? I wanted to please her, but was also interested to see what this would mean for me and for my body. It’s not often people invite me to take physical risks. So I agreed to try it.

And then… nothing.

I braced myself for the start of our little experiment, but things unfolded pretty much the same way as before. The delight of never knowing quickly gave way to frustration. I suspected why, but didn’t want to believe it. Sure enough, when I finally asked, I got the answer I had feared: “I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”

What that said to me was, “this woman still thinks I’m a little girl.”

Up to that point, I thought I’d done everything “right”: cultivated a functional relationship, finally let someone see me with my clothes off, said yes to sex, talked about my body, listened about hers, been willing to try new things, behaved like an adult. But it turns out it hadn’t worked. All of a sudden, the “nice girl” formula that had made my disability palatable — acknowledge, but don’t dissect; laugh it off when things get tough — failed. I had literally done the most grown-up thing I could think of with this person, and she still saw me as vulnerable. Not in the way that brings people closer, mind you, but in the way that makes them afraid to touch you. Makes them think you’re breakable.

Instead of screaming in her face, which is what I really wanted, I turned her question back on her and asked: “Who’s better at pain than I am?”

As a way to get a grasp on the whole CP situation, people like to ask me, “does it hurt?” In pain/not in pain is a good/bad binary that they can digest. It allows them to categorize my body in a way that makes sense, and tells them whether they should feel bad for me or not. I always say no because I don’t want to give anyone (more) reason to look down on my body. But let’s be real — there are screws in my spine. Of course it hurts…”

I’d recommend reading the full article here.

Pink Ladies

The other day, I watched “Kidnapped By Catwoman”, an hour of hilarious, thought-provoking stand-up comedy by Wil Hodgson. It describes the dawning of personal kink in a way that is more honest and relatable than any journey into Femdom I’ve ever heard. Telling you about it here can’t possibly do the show justice, but I’ll post a snippet from YouTube of Wil talking about “Grease, Pink Ladies. Sapphism and Why Geeky Boys Like Domme Women”:

Sane

Here’s a snippet from a brilliant Slate.com article by Jillian Keenan on how the reclassification of kink in the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders doesn’t go far enough to destigmatise BDSM. (Basically, we’re no longer deemed bad or mad pervs unless we’re also sad pervs.) :

“…In 1952, the DSM I officially categorized homosexuality as a mental disorder. As the gay rights movement gathered momentum in the 1960s, however, the psychiatric community introduced a diagnostic compromise by saying that people who were comfortable with their sexual orientation did not have a mental disorder. The APA triumphantly removed general homosexuality from the DSM in 1973. But for people who were “in conflict with” their homosexuality, they introduced a new condition instead: “sexual orientation disturbance” (SOD). The 1980 DSM IIIreplaced SOD with “ego-dystonic homosexuality,” but the basic principle remained the same: Happy homosexuals did not have a mental disorder, while unhappy ones did. 

The term paraphilia—which sexologist John Money defined as unusual sexual interests—first appeared in the DSM III. (Before that, the DSM II listed homosexuality, masochism, sadism, transvestism, fetishism, and other consensual minority sexualities alongside criminal pedophilia and frotteurism in the category of “sexual deviations.”) Although there were minor wording changes to the subsequent DSM IV and DSM IV-TR, psychiatric consensus continued to lump noncriminal paraphilias together with criminal paraphilias as mental disorders.

Thankfully, all forms of homosexuality (including ego-dystonic homosexuality) were finally removed from the DSM in 1987, after a long struggle and far too late. Noncriminal sexual paraphilias should also be removed for many of the same reasons that homosexuality was: People who are stigmatized and misunderstood, such as sexual minorities, might be unhappy—but the unhappiness itself is the problem that should be treated, not the person’s sexual identity or practice.

To be clear, I’m not comparing the experience of being kinky to the experience of being gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender. No one is trying to stop kinky people from getting married or, with a few exceptions, threaten our physical safety. The LGBTQ community has serious human rights violations to contend with; most kinksters face nothing more serious than internal turmoil, awkward conversations with new partners, and cultural mockery…”

Read the full article here.

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