Though most of the letters I get from readers revolve around the same few issues (older men/younger women; student crushes on teachers; chinchilla care), every once in a while I’ll get a spate of queries about another topic. And on my return from Israel, I found no fewer than three emails in my inbox on the topic of BDSM and feminism. This same week, a student obliquely raised the subject in my conference hours.
I don’t do this often, but let me suggest a quick perusal of the generally work-safe Wikipedia entry on BDSM. It’s a non-titillating, and inoffensive introduction to a world that makes many folks uncomfortable (in more than one sense, I suppose.)
Two of the three emails I received were from young women; one from a man in his thirties. All three are self-described feminists, and all three are involved — in one way or another — in the BDSM subculture. And their questions were all essentially the same. “Caitlin” (21) wrote:
I’m a women’s studies major at (mid-size university in Ohio)…The only sexual experiences I have ever had with another person that felt safe and pleasurable… were in situations where I was a submissive. I’m not into heavy pain, but I connect my own arousal to being dominated and controlled. I know it’s my “choice” to participate in this scene, but I feel as if I’m betraying a basic feminist principle by doing so.
How can I distinguish between what I really want and what society has acculturated me to want? If I can’t discern the difference, am I a bad feminist? Do feminists have to have vanilla (non-BDSM) sex?
I should add that I was raised in a liberal Catholic home, and though I don’t go to church anymore, I still believe in God. I’d be interested in a feminist Christian perspective on BDSM, because I haven’t seen anything like that.
The questions in Caitlin’s middle paragraph are essentially the same ones the other two emailers asked, and they jive with what my student was asking me this week.
I have no personal experience in the BDSM scene or the fetish world. Though I often allude to a colorful past, I confess that even in my wildest periods of youthful indiscretion and experimentation, I shied away from that subculture. I’ve long known — ever since I was a child — that I have, for lack of a better phrase, a mean streak. I’ve worked all my life to keep it in check; much of my passion for feminism and animal rights work is linked, on a not-very subconscious level, to my own awareness that my capacity for cruelty is very real. God and I have done some amazing work together; the gentleness that I think many others can see in me today is rooted entirely in my effort and His grace, not in my nature. Stepping into the world of BDSM would, for me, have been to tempt something that even at my most reckless I was not ready to tempt.
That said, I’ve had many colleagues and students and fellow feminist activists who were involved (to one degree or another) in the world of domination and submission. Indeed, when I think about it, it’s remarkable how many men and women I’ve known who spent time in that subculture. Going back to my years as an undergraduate, I can recall a series of conversations on the question of whether or not BDSM was compatible with feminist commitments. Twenty years ago — even ten years ago — I was certain that an authentic devotion to public equality couldn’t possibly coexist with a delight in private transactions in which sexual power is surrendered and taken. But I’ve met too many women whose public “feminist credentials” were impeccable and whose freely chosen delight in submission was equally sincere.
I got a note last year from a former student. I looked for it in preparation for this post but couldn’t find it. She’s worked as a submissive fetish model, and just finished her MA in women’s studies. She remembered that when she was my student, I had made some remark (long since forgotten by me) that she perceived as “closed-minded” about the BDSM world. It had taken her a while to get around to correcting me, but correct me she did. Part of what she said in her email I remember well, though I’m paraphrasing rather than quoting in the hope of conveying the gist of what she said:
Growing up as a teenage girl in my society, I felt my power taken away from me by everything and everyone: peers, parents, culture, men. No one ever asked me what I wanted. It was only in the ’scene’ that I found a voice. I’ve never known people as respectful, as caring, as concerned with my feelings and my own boundaries as the people I’ve found in BDSM. Because we find pleasure in pushing limits, we take greater care than anyone else does to make sure that we respect each other’s boundaries. Yes, as a submissive, I’ve found pleasure and I’ve found a voice. Of course it’s been cathartic to be involved in this world, but it’s not just about healing the damage done to me as a girl. It’s brought me healing and joy.
I remember she pointed out to me that as an endurance runner, I obviously was aware of the close relationship between suffering and pleasure. She even used a phrase I first heard used by one of my old running buddies: “constructive suffering.” Reflecting on her note, I admitted that taking my body to its often painful limits has not only been empowering for me, it has helped me to heal much of my own physical self-loathing. The greatest and most enduring payoff of endurance work hasn’t been the eradication of fat, because fat isn’t the enemy. The greatest payoff of marathoning hasn’t been the lowered resting heart rate or the endorphin high. The greatest payoff has been the end to the dualism that sees the body as separate, disconnected, and alien from me. Running — especially hard, painful running — has helped me understand what it means to be an incarnate spirit, a soul and a body joined together. And I’ve become convinced that for many men and women, participating enthusiastically in BDSM can bring about the same sort of epiphany.
I’m a great believer that we’re all called to work for public justice. I’m also convinced that a commitment to public justice needs to be built on a foundation of private virtue. I don’t think compartmentalization is healthy. And until relatively recently, I would have had a hard time believing that a “feminist submissive” wasn’t an oxymoron. But if, as my trusted sources tell me, real integrity and caring and concern for “voice” and boundaries not only exists in but is treasured by the BDSM community, then I think it’s possible to say that feminism is indeed compatible with this often misunderstood subculture.
Those who are better informed than I are welcome to weigh in.
I misread your title as “constructed” suffering, which I actually think might also be appropriate. This post makes me think of something I did last weekend with my husband - we went to a theme park to ride roller coasters. I’m famously wussy, and have never gotten close to one, but he’d wanted to go for his birthday, and I’ve been sort of trying to pull myself out of a emotional rut lately, so I decided to go for it. It took lots of coaxing all day, but I did eventually ride all of them, and I think I enjoyed it. I know that I did like being able to push my boundaries on something I knew was not actually dangerous, just scary due to a phobia, with kindness and encouragement from my partner. It’s the kind of memory that will forever make me feel warm and fuzzy, just because of the role our trust and love for each other was able to play in helping me do something difficult.
I’ve never understood BDSM or found it remotely sexy, so much so that I’ve never thought about it much. Thinking about it as an artificial environment where I can explore my fear and caution, knowing that there will really be no more harm done to me than getting really shaken up (in the case of BDSM, maybe a black eye or two) - that makes more sense.
Hugo, I emailed you about this myself a while back, and you were (at the time) going to post about it.
Anyway, all of my sexuality, from early childhood, has involved themes of power, control, and pain. (All of those were involved way before sex was.) I’ve always been the bottom, in my fantasies and in my mind. I don’t know how to reconcile it with feminism - I’m very sympathetic to feminist arguments against it. It may be one of those things where you get to choose between your ideology and your enjoyment.
However, recently I’ve become the dominant partner in a new relationship, and I am absolutely loving it. Not only is it hot, but it’s liberating in a whole new way. All of my relationships up until now (I’m 32) have been regular, non-bdsm ones, but I never realized until now how passive I’ve always been and how reluctant to seek my own pleasure (while feeling that my partner’s pleasure was mandatory). I know better and I’ve still always been that way.
I wrote a longer post about it here. (Note: if you venture beyond this post to the rest of my blog, it’s all bdsm-themed, and much of it is explicit and may be offensive. Discretion is advised.)
I’ve been thinking about this lately, too, and I recently concluded that feminism and BDSM and compatible, for slightly different reasons from you.
The greatest payoff has been the end to the dualism that sees the body as separate, disconnected, and alien from me. Running — especially hard, painful running — has helped me understand what it means to be an incarnate spirit, a soul and a body joined together.
Lovely!
That same dualism haunted me for many years, and still does, though to a much lesser extent. I’d so much rather see people confronting it in the BDSM context of boundaries and communication than the various desperate ways I did, namely self-mutilation.
People are complicated creatures with some darker needs and desires. It makes me glad to see at least one community addressing them productively.
Thanks for this post. I recently watched the movie Secretary, and the way the movie portrayed a BDSM relationship. Now I have more context to think about it. It intrigued me, but I don’t have a lot of context to put it into, since I really have no experience or friends (that I know of) in the subculture.
Dev, you did indeed email me — consider this a woefully late response! I read your post and do indeed heartily recommend others do so as well.
Daisy, as I’ve blogged about before, I come out of a background of self-mutilating behavior. Perhaps indeed, BDSM would have been healthier!
And as for “Secretary”, it was a marvelous film. Pitch-perfect in ways I can’t describe here.
It would be really nice if more people pointed out that women doing BDSM doesn’t mean they have to be the ones on the bottom.
For example, Caitlin’s question: Do feminists have to have vanilla (non-BDSM) sex?
You could point out to her that while feminists certainly don’t have to have pejoratively-phrased non-bdsm sex, they DO have to see a third choice besides woman-submissive and woman-equal.
You don’t have to get off on sexual domination to be a feminist. But you’ll have a hard time calling yourself a feminist if you act like the option’s never occurred to you, like your only choice is between being equal and getting stepped on.
And you, Hugo: I’ve long known — ever since I was a child — that I have, for lack of a better phrase, a mean streak.
Surely you’re equally prone to a semi-benign form of ‘masochism’; you mention it yourself in connection with running in this very post. Why didn’t you mention that as a temptation you’re staying away from? You can’t think that BDSM means man-on-top by definition.
Sophonisba, I think your point is well made. I don’t think that women being on top alleviates all feminist concerns about bdsm, but not being aware of the option certainly isn’t a good sign.
From Hugo’s original post:
It certainly is treasured in the bdsm community of which I am a part.
For some further reading in this topic, I recommend this blog also (with which I am not affiliated): let them eat pro-sm feminist safe spaces.
I can relate. I, too, have a mean streak. Like you, too, I’m pretty vanilla.
But I agree that there is absolutely room for BDSM in feminism. Power play is exactly that, play. It’s recognizing that power structures are constructs that are mutable. Those constructs can be used for all kinds of things, including sexual pleasure. And feminism is about ridding the world of sexism and misogyny, not of pleasure between consenting adults in the privacy of their bedrooms (or kitchens or sex clubs or other private area).
I may be rather vanilla in the bedroom, but I can certainly see the appeal of BDSM. If we analogize driving a car to sex and the driver is dominant and the passenger is submissive it’s easy to see the appeals of either role. As a driver, you get to choose the destination as well as the route. You get to decide what the passenger gets to see and how. As a passenger, you get the luxury of the better view. You can concentrate on the scenery rather than the road and you don’t have to plan anything. You can relax and let go. It makes sense that some people prefer to always drive or always ride shotgun and that others like to switch off. There’s nothing non-feminist about having a preference, unless you feel it’s not freely chosen or unless you can’t express that preference.
Moreover, even if the two (feminism and BDSM) were irreconcilable, no one is perfect. We all fail to live up to our ideologies in one way or another and we ought to forgive ourselves for minor infringements, the ones that don’t directly harm others. As far as I can tell, private sexual experiences between consenting adults don’t harm others, so go for it! On that issue, it’s more relevant to discuss BDSM pornography and erotica than personal preferences.
Bah-humbug Alert:
“How can I distinguish between what I really want and what society has acculturated me to want?”
-Determining what we *really* want or, at least, the best approximation, can happen through deconstruction, and education. Removal of media in its entirety is a jolting and surprising experiment. To be more speicific (and further unpopular), not participating in BDSM: subcultures can be very high context and formalized–social constructs will ensue. Participating in an activity that mixes “respectful boundaries” with a sexual indulgence in inequality/pain is an unlikely candidate for clarity. Further, as a feminist, I don’t see any chance of clear skies until we *stop!* sexualizing power or the lack thereof. We have yet to go a day without hundreds/thousands of rapes, molestations, assaults, verbal beatings peppering our memories, emotional transactions, psyches. Why we think we are in a position to muddy these waters is beyond me.
Perhaps getting to a place where your orgasm is possible and enjoyable without the use of media, thoughts of others, pain, etc…by way of masturbation.
Vertically intergrating one’s sexuality to its bare minimum, where it is all and only about self to self is a great starting place. It also means you know what you want and when it comes time to share this with another person you truly know what you are giving to that person. Real consent happens when both parties have a clear understanding of these terms and thus can offer it to each other without the bells and whistles of “society”. It is for these reasons I find Hugo’s dualistic runner analogy painfully futile.
Best of luck.
Pisaquari, I’m receptive to your arguments except for the fact that I’ve never had a sexuality that didn’t involve power exchange. So I find your practical suggestions about as likely to succeed as all those programs that try to convert people from gay to straight.
But, by all means, if you’re not ineluctably drawn to bdsm, stay away. I certainly agree in theory that power and sexuality should be un-combined.
BDSM is just another name for abuse, cruelty, abandonment of your vanilla wife and children and spirally down into ever more consuming sex addiction.
Rainbow, we’re talking here about feminist women who practice BDSM as both dominants and submissivess. Your sweeping generalization here ignores their experience entirely.
Rainbow:
No. It isn’t. But it may be that where one person expresses needs that another person finds offensive, incomprehensible, or otherwise unwilling to participate in, then people may go their separate ways to find the sexual fulfillment they seek. Damage along the way is no less real and painful, but that’s not the “fault” of BDSM or any other kink.
I’ve always been impressed by people, like those in the BDSM or other kink communities, that take so much time and effort at examining what they want from their sexual partner(s). I may not grok the enjoyment they get from certain activities, but if more “vanilla” folks spent as much time examining and questioning what they wanted and how they would go about getting it, the world would be a happier place.
Dev,
That your sexual experiences (which are relevant) have always included power exchange does not mean the opposite is impossible. And if you find something, even in theory, preferable, why not explore that or surround yourself with a “culture” that practices those methods?
And really. Comparing my suggestions to a homophobic conversion system???
Finally, yes, staying away I have done to the best of my ability. I am still in the midst of reorganizing my self-esteem, throwing out clothes designed for my objectification, re-conditioning my orgasm, etc, in my attempt to “stay away” from the patriarchy. Guess how well that is going.
But not matter how hard I try to stay away from other people’s sexuality, it gets imposed on me. Believe it or not, what people do in their bedroom does NOT stay there. It perpetuates how they treat other people, what they do to the next lover, interactions with the sex industry, etc… I, personally, have been spanked/groped/touched in unwanted ways countless times (bedroom and out). I’ve also sat in a room with a bunch of “consenting adults” and listened to their stories of powerlessness with the feelings they get watching porn, doing BDSM, going to strip clubs, etc…Being powerless to power is not empowering. It’s dehumanizing. It’s Patriarchy.
Most women I know are submissive to fear of pending domination/violation yet considered sexually dominating to those who wish to visually violate them daily. If you want to relish and indulge in these dynamics then rah-rah for you. But it validates waaaay too much of what patriarchy thrives on to make it anything but inescapable for the rest of us.
Pisaquari, I really do understand your points. I’m a feminist and I’m pretty sure if I didn’t feel the way I do, I’d completely agree with you. I was raised in and I do surround myself with a culture of people who are not into power hierarchies. And almost all of my relationships have had no bdsm in them (except what I brought inside my own head).
Something I’m curious about is whether, if we succeeded in eradicating (or mostly eradicating) patriarchy, there would still be bdsm? Would it disappear because these themes of violence, control, and authority would no longer infest people’s childhoods, when their sexuality is forming? Or would it simply become easier to practice “cleanly”? (I certainly think it’s possible to do consensual bdsm in a way that it almost certainly wasn’t 200 years ago. This is a good thing.)
I know I’d feel a lot better about what I do if there weren’t real torture, etc., in the world. In the meantime, I’m going to be like the feminists who dress up in a feminine way - acknowledge that there are good points to be made against it, but choose (as best I am able, and realizing that choices themselves are culturally constrained) what brings me the most pleasure.
I read a book awhile ago called Unwanted Sex by Stephen Schulholfer. In it, the author makes the point that just because someone does not explicitly consent before having sex, it may not necessarily mean that he or she has consented. Why should the default be “yes” to all sex, unless told otherwise?
I’m not sure if I believe that the implicit assumption of consent isn’t reasonable (i.e. absence of “no” often means “yes”), but it does lead to an often derided suggestion: before any sex, consent must be obtained. (This would probably lower incidences of date rape where there does seem to have been real misinterpretation of consent.) I think of this as I think of the suggestion that I wrap myself and/or my partner in latex before engaging in ANY sexual activity: impractical, awkward but really, the best, safest practice.
BDSM is ALL about consent. It’s all about communication. It’s all about trust, honesty, clarity (and, actually, sobriety — no one suggests engaging in BDSM play while drunk or high). It is literally asking for permission for every act, which necessitates extremely explicit description of what it is you want to do. You are given a choice, and you have to clearly make a choice. Done right, it is the most empowering sexual experience many of us will ever have. Maybe choosing to be dominated is the “wrong” choice for a feminist — I personally do not believe that! — but in regular sex, no one ever so clearly acknowledges that my body is my property, and mine alone, and only I can say what can be done to it. Isn’t that a feminist ideal? Strange that it should often be found amongst whips and chains, but not always — in fact, rarely, in explicit terms — in gentle, “respectful” caresses that just sort of happen.
Okay, I took way too much space just saying, “dude, I think BDSM is totally compatible with feminism”. :)
Christian Feminist perspective–try Carter Heyward’s book called: Touching, Our Strength. the power of God and the Erotic. Love Heyward’s work, and call myself a Christian Feminist. I’m also bisexual in a long term, somewhat vanilla relationship with a woman, and I love being dominated by a man. Presently have a second lover. So I’m polyamorous as well.
Never would have believed it of myself a few years back, but my fantasies have always been about being dominated. I suppose it could be considered somehow patriarchal in nature, but it is not an oppressive thing for me. If it were I would walk away from it in an instant. It is freeing in a way I could never have imagined it would be. And it doesn’t leave me feeling disempowered in the least, but rather God meets us there in the midst of it all. It feels sacred. My submission is born of love and when I give that willingly to someone who respects and sees it for what it is, then transformation happens, and I step into a new kind of power in my life.
That said, there are plenty of dominant men out there that I would never offer my submission to. Their need for power, their greed for control are terrifying. I can recognize the difference. Yes, the man who is my dom at present has some control issues…so do I. But there is also a feeling of respect and there is love. So we can channel those control issues into a kind of play that releases something for each of us. It is a great catharthis.
Wrong/Right is a kind of dualism that feminism really tries to avoid at its core. We are individuals. Each of responds differently to certain stimulations. Our bodies are uniquely our own. I spent many years as a feminist trying to stuff these desires back down. But I’ve had enough of that. I think in the play there is something that happens which turns patriarchy on it’s head. It is just the opposite of what one would expect. Paradox. I love paradox. Life is full of it, and I want to embrace it fully, joyfully.
“re-conditioning my orgasm” — Why in the world would you want to do that? if you have good orgasms why mess with it? just because it’s in the “wrong” place?
*rolls eyes*
“Why in the world would you want to do that? if you have good orgasms why mess with it? just because it’s in the “wrong” place?”
Right Darla. All those pedos, rapists, assualters, animal screwers–leave that nice orgasm alone!
Please don’t take over the world anytime soon.
My generalization are based on the personal experience of being abused by a proud perverted BDSM psychopath. Don’t believe the BDSM hype. Sadism does not stop at the extramarital mistress’ door. It is brought up home to abuse the non kink wife and children. These people torture each other, injure each other, have no respect for each other or any other human being. If that is empowering than you probably applaud Nazis, people who torture animals, and all other kinds of abusers.
Just because the sadist or the M is a feminist, does not mean they don’t bring their cruelty and inflict harm at home, in the office, on their relatives, cheat the government, etc. The whole point of BDSM is cruelty, meanness, destruction, cutting up another person.
Not to mention the collaring, the owning. Slavery still exists in this country. It is certainly not feminism to own a women, humiliate her, loan her out to other doms for sex, torture and beatings. Read and see what these people do to women on their sites and chats. It is not pretty and it should be criminal, except the women are sick enough to accept the torture and the beatings just to say they have a boy friend.
Rainbow-
I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, but I really just wish I could give you a hug. I’m so sorry you’ve had such traumatizing experiences and it makes complete sense why you feel the way you do. I know it is probably useless to say, given how strongly your negative experience has affected you, but I do beg you to consider that one person (or a few people) is not representative of a whole (large!) community.
Especially with a topic so twisted by media and so difficult to explain, there are those who will use it as a name (a defense) for what they do wrongfully.
Again, I apologize on behalf of those who practice safe, sane, consensual BDSM practices, that our name was perverted to harm you.