Who knows what I wanted. I know that I had a need to assert myself as a sexual person to a world that had tried to erase that part of me that I felt so significantly. I know that I didn’t want him, but I did want something. If, as young people, we were held to standards of saying and hearing yes and not just the absence of no, these events may not have played out as they did. The way I learned about myself as a sexual being, the way I defined those experiences, and the time I’ve spent undoing that may have been vastly different. If I had grown up in a community that provided nurturing models for consent and for my attraction to the queer and the taboo, I may have found healthy ways to explore those aspects of myself, instead of accepting the closest approximation of deviant sexuality within my reach.
We are not all rape survivors. The trauma of rape impacts individuals in ways that we cannot all claim as our experience. At the same time, people, and particularly people raised to be women, are reaching adulthood damaged by both the mass violence inflicted on communities to which they belong and the lack of positive, joyful alternatives in which they are full participants in their own sexual lives.
So, what can be done now?
I hope to be a part of a rape crisis movement that recognizes consent and nonconsent in myriad different locations, from the violation of our bodies to the wars that are fought with our tax dollars to the relationships between parents and children. This movement must form broad coalitions and seek new models of accountability that don’t require colluding with inherently flawed punitive standards of “justice.” We must be creative, and we must not be silent about the places where our work fails to live up to our values.
I will continue to play and to work in the places of joy and in the places of pain. I will do this because a movement to end sexual violence needs people with creativity and imagination and a willingness to take risks. And I will do it because I need these experiences to survive. In their book
The Ethical Slut,
Dossie Eaton and Katherine Lizst write, “Sex is nice and pleasure is good for you.”
2
I will advocate that sex education, including education about pleasure and communication, accompanies anti-sexual violence education, in hopes that one day this will really all be as simple as Eaton and Lizst say.
If you want to read more about MUCH TABOO ABOUT NOTHING, try:
• How Do You Fuck a Fat Woman? BY KATE HARDING
• The Process-Oriented Virgin BY HANNE BLANK
If you want to read more about SEXUAL HEALING, try:
• Sex Worth Fighting For BY ANASTASIA HIGGINBOTHAM
• In Defense of Going Wild or: How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Pleasure (and How You Can, Too) BY JACLYN FRIEDMAN
If you want to read more about SURVIVING TO YES, try:
• What It Feels Like When It Finally Comes: Surviving Incest in Real Life BY LEAH LAKSHMI PIEPZNA-SAMARASINHA
• Who’re You Calling a Whore?: A Conversation with Three Sex Workers on Sexuality, Empowerment, and the Industry BY SUSAN LOPEZ, MARIKO PASSION, SAUNDRA
9
The Fantasy of Acceptable “Non-Consent”: Why the Female Sexual Submissive Scares Us (and Why She Shouldn’t)
BY STACEY MAY FOWLES
BECAUSE I’M A FEMINIST WHO ENJOYS domination, bondage, and pain in the bedroom, it should be pretty obvious why I often remain mute and, well, pretty closeted about my sexuality. While it’s easy for me to write an impassioned diatribe on the vital importance of “conventional” women’s pleasure, or to talk publicly and explicitly about sexual desire in general, I often shy away from conversations about my personal sexual choices. Despite the fact that I’ve been on a long, intentional path to finally feel empowered by and open about my decision to be a sexual submissive, the reception I receive regarding this decision is not always all that warm.
BDSM (for my purposes, bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism) makes a lot of people uncomfortable, and the concept of female submission makes feminists
really
uncomfortable. I can certainly understand why, but I also believe that safe, sane, and consensual BDSM exists as a polar opposite of a reality in which women constantly face the threat of sexual violence.
As someone who works in the feminist media and who advocates against violence against women and for rape survivors’ rights, I never really felt I was
allowed
to participate in the fantasy of my own violation. There is a guilt and shame in having the luxury to decide to act on this desire—to consent to this kind of “nonconsent.” It seems to suggest you haven’t known true sexual violence, cannot truly understand how traumatic it can be, if you’re willing to incorporate a fictional version of it into your “play.” But this simply isn’t true: A 2007 study conducted in Australia revealed that rates of sexual abuse and coercion were similar between BDSM practitioners and other Australians. The study concluded that BDSM is simply a sexual interest or subculture attractive to a minority, not defined by a pathological symptom of past abuse.
But when you throw a little rape, bondage, or humiliation fantasy into the mix, a whole set of ideological problems arises. The idea of a woman consenting to be violated via play not only is difficult terrain to negotiate politically, but also is rarely discussed beyond BDSM practitioners themselves. Sexually submissive feminists already have a hard enough time finding a voice in the discourse, and their desire to be demeaned is often left out of the conversation. Because of this, the opportunity to articulate the political ramifications of rape fantasy happens rarely, if at all.
You can blame this silence on the fact that BDSM is generally poorly—often cartoonishly—represented. Cinematic depictions are generally hastily drawn caricatures, pushing participants onto the fringes and increasing the stigma that surrounds their personal and professional choices. While mainstream film and television occasionally offer up an empowered, vaguely fleshed-out, and somewhat sympathetic professional female dom (think Lady Heather from
CSI
), those women who are sexually submissive by choice seem to be invisible. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that they are left out of the picture because, quite simply,
they scare us.
Feminist pornographic depictions of women being dominated for pleasure are often those involving other women—that’s a safe explicit image, because the idea of a male inflicting pain on a consenting woman is just too hard for many people to stomach. For many viewers it hits too close to home—the idea of a female submissive’s consensual exchange of her authority to make decisions (temporarily or long-term) for a dominant’s agreement to make decisions for her just doesn’t sit well with the feminist community.
It’s important to point out that, however you attempt to excuse it, this inability to accept BDSM into the feminist dialogue is really just a form of kinkophobia, a widely accepted prejudice against the practice of power-exchange sex. Patrick Califia, writer and advocate of BDSM pornography and practice, wisely states that “internalized kinkophobia is the unique sense of shame that many, if not most, sadomasochists feel about their participation in a deviant society.” This hatred of self can be particularly strong among feminist submissives, when an entire community that they identify with either dismisses their desires or pegs them as unwitting victims.
It’s taken me many years of unlearning mainstream power dynamics to understand and accept my own desire for fictional, fetishized ones. Despite this deliberate journey of self-discovery and the accompanying (and perhaps contradictory) feelings of being in total control, it’s pretty evident that the feminist movement at large is not really ready to admit that women who like to be hit, choked, tied up, and humiliated are empowered. Personally, the more I submitted sexually, the more I was able to be autonomous in my external life, the more I was able to achieve equality in my sexual and romantic partnerships, and the more genuine I felt as a human being. Regardless, I always felt that by claiming submissive status I was being highlighted as part of a social dynamic that sought to violate all women. Sadly, claims of sexual emancipation do not translate into acceptance for submissives—the best a submissive can hope for is to be labeled and condescended to as a damaged victim choosing submission as a way of healing from or processing past trauma and abuse.
Whether or not it’s difficult to accept that the desire to be demeaned is not a product of a society that seeks to objectify women, I would argue that, regardless of appearance, by its very nature BDSM is
constantly
about consent. Of course, its language and rules differ significantly from vanilla sexual scenes, but the very existence of a safe word is the ultimate in preventing violation—it suggests that at any moment, regardless of expectations or interpretations on the part of either party,
the act can and will end
. Ignoring the safe word is a clear act of violation that is not up for any debate. Because of this, BDSM sex, even with all its violent connotations, can be much “safer” than non-safe word sex. While not very romantic in the traditional sense, the rules are clear—at any moment a woman (or man) can say no, regardless of the script she (or he) is using.
The safe, sane, and consensual BDSM landscape is made up of stringent rules and safe practices designed to protect the feelings of
everyone
involved, and to ensure
constant, enthusiastic consent
. The culture could not exist if this were not the case; a submissive participates in power exchange because a safe psychological space is offered up to do so in. That space creates an opportunity for a display of endurance, a relief from responsibility, and feelings of affection and security. Before any “scene” begins, the rules are made clear and the limitations agreed upon.
Finding a partner or dom to play with is the ultimate achievement in trust, and giving someone the power to hurt you for pleasure is both liberating and powerful. The more I embrace submissive sexuality, the more I come to learn that, despite all appearances to the contrary, consensual, respectful SM relationships generally dismantle the very tropes that rape culture is founded on. A dom/ sub dynamic doesn’t
appear
to promote equality, but for most serious practitioners, the trust and respect that exist in power exchange actually transcend a mainstream “woman as object” or rape mentality. For BDSM to exist safely, it has to be founded on a constant proclamation of enthusiastic consent, which mainstream sexuality has systematically dismantled.
This, of course, doesn’t mean that BDSM culture is without blame or responsibility. Despite the obvious fact that domination and submission (and everything that comes with them) are in the realm of elaborate fantasy, it is interesting to examine how those lifestyle choices and depictions (both mainstream and countercultural) influence an overall rape culture that seeks to demean and demoralize woman. While consensual, informed BDSM is contrary to rape culture, more mainstream (or nonfetish) pornography that even vaguely simulates rape (of the “take it, bitch” and “you know you like it” variety) is quite the opposite. When those desires specific to BDSM are appropriated, watered down, and corrupted, the complex rules that the counterculture is founded on are completely disposed of.
Herein lies the problem—with the advent and proliferation of Internet pornography, the fantasy of rape, torture, and bondage becomes an issue of access. No longer reserved for an informed, invested viewer who carefully sought it out after a trip to a fetish bookstore, BDSM is represented in every porn portal on the Internet. The average computer user can have instant access to a full catalog of BDSM practices, ranging from light, softcore spanking to hardcore torture, in a matter of seconds. This kind of constant, unrestrained availability trains viewers who don’t have a BDSM cultural awareness, investment, or education to believe that what women want is to be coerced and, in some cases, forced into acts they don’t consent to. Over the years, various interpretations of the genre have made it into straight porn, without any suggestion of artifice—women on leashes, in handcuffs, gagged, tied up, and told to “like it” are all commonplace imagery in contemporary pornography. While the serious BDSM practitioner thrives on that artifice, the average young, male, heterosexual porn audience member begins to believe that forcing women into sex acts is the norm—the imagery’s constant, instant availability makes rape and sex one and the same for the mainstream viewer. Couple that private home viewing to get off with the proliferation of graphic crime shows on prime-time television and torture porn masquerading as “psychological thrillers” in theaters, and our cultural imagery screams that “women as sexual victims” is an acceptable reality. For someone who is raised and reaches sexual maturity in this environment, the idea of forcing a woman into a sex act seems, although logically “wrong,” completely commonplace and possibly quite sexy.