Latest posts for tag bdsm

The short answer is you don't. Accessibility is about reasonable accommodations; it is about opening the doors to your space. Accessibility is about giving people access to the parts of your world that they are going to be able to approach. But it is inherently about accommodating someone in your world, not about reshaping that world. In that mindset, an intimate performance like a strip show is intimate enough that bringing it to someone blind is going to be far beyond any reasonable accommodation. The idea that there are no reasonable accommodations to make something accessible to a given audience is an inherent part of how we think about accessibility.

There’s a big difference between accessibility and inclusion. Accessibility is opening the door; inclusion is actually changing your world so that you share it with someone new. Many of our events are reasonably accessible to someone who is blind. But there’s a lot more work to include someone who is blind in our communities. I have talked some about that in the past and will expand in the future, but to get an idea, think about how many volunteer positions require sight or how many times eye contact comes up in introductory kink classes. Consider how many times we encourage someone to take those volunteer positions if they want to connect more deeply with the community.

I was at a panel on inclusion and someone talked about the importance of being able to sit with your own discomfort in creating a welcoming space and including others in that space. It hit me how true that is. Paradoxically creating a welcoming environment is going to be uncomfortable, both for those already in the community and for those currently on the outside. One reason is that unlike with accessibility, we cannot simply stop when we find there is no reasonable accommodation. Once we have decided we want to include someone in our space, we have opened the door to making all sorts of changes. Why do they want to be included in that activity? What could we do instead that we could include them in? What will we lose by doing that? Why do we value that? We have to face ways in which traditions we value come up against the practical reality of the needs of those we are trying to welcome.

Let me make this more real by sharing my own story.

Why do you want to watch Strip Shows?

I’m blind. So why do I even care about strip shows? How does that become an issue of inclusion?

It started a year ago at Southwest Master/slave contest. Leather weekends and leather contests have fundraisers where people strip, give lap dances, or perform other sexy activities. When I started going to these events, I ignored these sexy fundraisers. There's not much I get out of someone else stripping or doing a sexy visual performance. After my conference accessibility blog post made the rounds, I joked with various people about how we could make these activities accessible. At the time, it was mostly a joke: you would never find a way to make that accessible.

Last year at Southwest, I knew one of the contestant couples and was tracking the contest closely. I wanted to be part of everything. People around me were getting excited. A lot of energy was building up. I wanted to be part of that. It was a relatively small room. I felt safe in that space; I felt included enough to push a bit at the flow of energy. So I stood and asked how much I would need to donate to get descriptive video for what was going on. My request took the room by surprise, but suddenly I found myself getting a description of the events from Lee Harrington. He was across the room and not prepared to be explaining what was going on. It felt so good though. I had chosen to be vulnerable and to ask for what I needed. People included me. The MC at Southwest last year was Jayson DaBoi. We talked a bit about my interruption and he was supportive.

MSC Rolls Around

At the time, I thought of my needs at Southwest as a singular experience. I knew the contestants, and so I wanted to be involved.

But then I found myself at Master/slave Conference (MSC). I felt more involved than ever. My vassal and I were teaching. And there was Jayson, coming up to the stage, asking how much we'd pay to see him strip someone. I felt empowered by my previous interaction. So I asked who he was stripping. He didn’t know. I ribbed him a bit for that. I mean if you’re going to take someone’s clothes off, shouldn’t you at least know who they are? One thing led to another, and Dominion Onyx was giving a description of the strip show in his beautiful voice. Talk about hot! After MSC, it became clear I needed to think more about these fundraisers. I was becoming more attached to the M/s community. Sitting there in our shared events as the energy built around me, I wanted to become involved. I wanted to be part of that energy. Yes, I could find other ways to donate, but here was a part of the event where we were all celebrating being sexy together. I wanted to support that.

Succeeding in that at MSC and Southwest felt good. But I needed to approach things more methodically. Having me jump up from the audience once or twice might be okay. That particular part of the proceedings can be free-flowing and we all managed to make it work without much disruption. Long term, a broader conversation needed to happen. After MSC I decided to try and start that conversation.

Writing about the Event

The first step was to write up my feelings. I wanted to talk about how this became important, and how exhilarating it was to ask for what I wanted and to feel like I was part of the community. I wanted to discuss what the balance was. Dominion Onyx’s voiceover was incredibly hot. On the other hand, having someone talk about what is going on changes the vulnerability for those who are actually performing and even for those watching. It changes the experience. Experimenting with things like that is great. Long term, I hope we choose to be intentional.

Several times I tried to write about my experience. I could not get past the first sentence or two. I felt vulnerable. It had been a powerful experience for me. What if it had not been a significant experience for other participants? At the time, I had not thought about how we were building energy together as a community; back then I was only thinking about it as a fundraiser. Why was it important for me to disrupt a kind of fundraiser that had been going on since well before I was involved in the community? There were plenty of other ways I could show my support. Why wasn’t it good enough for me to focus on the parts of our experience that work for me and ignore the rest?

Was I sure the community was ready to spend the energy necessary to include me in ways that felt meaningful? If I needed change to feel welcome, perhaps this was a sign I wanted too much or that the community was the wrong place. (Hint: this is bullshit., but these doubts are a normal part of vulnerability.)

My confidence in my place in the kink and leather community goes in cycles. Sometimes I feel included and connected. Being vulnerable is easy. Sometimes, I wonder if people value what I have to say. Sometimes it feels like there are more well-known, more-experienced, more-articulate people saying all the things I know how to say. In those times, I desperately want to contribute, but it feels like I cannot figure out how.

At those times, finding the vulnerability to start a discussion like this is impossible. Unfortunately, one of those times rolled around toward the end of last year. Then life happened, and I found I was spending what little energy I had focused on supporting the people close to me.

So even though I wanted to build on the momentum of Southwest and MSC to start a vulnerable conversation about inclusion, I could not.

Rolling onto Southplains Leather Fest

It was coming up on March, and I had still not found the vulnerability and courage to talk about my experiences with the sexy fundraisers at Southwest and MSC. I talked to a few people, letting them know the experience had been powerful and suggesting we should have conversations about the broader facets of inclusion that were actually a part of helping someone feel a part of the energy of the community.

I decided I was not going to bring anything up at South Plains. That community is bigger than MSC, and standing out and asking for something at a big conference like that is harder than at some place like MSC. Also, I had already proven that I could ask for inclusion and be met with welcome. I did not mind waiting until I brought up the issue and together we found a way to discuss it.

So the sexy fundraisers happened around me. I let them flow by. I felt more included than I had been the year before even though I had no more idea what was going on. I was at one of my homes. I was welcome.

Goddess Indigo was MC at South Plains last year. She had just talked about the wonderful vendors, and moved onto another round of fundraising. She was asking for money to support one of the sexy performances. I felt comfortable enough to shout out that I had already spent my money on the vendors. It was mostly true: between the vendors and silent auction, my budget was near tapped. I had found a way to support South Plains that worked for me. I doubt she knew who she was talking to; I do not think I was visible from the audience. She said that next year I should save money for the fundraisers.

I wasn’t unhappy with goddess Indigo for the suggestion: in her role, she didn’t have time or awareness (or even the ability if she couldn’t see me) to learn my circumstances. I was unhappy with the suggestion though. I should choose how I support the community, and supporting the aspects of the community that aren’t able to include me doesn’t feel right. So I responded, “When you include me in this, I will support it.”

To which Goddess Indigo said, “Sounds like we have someone volunteering to perform next year.” It was actually possible. There are parts of the fundraisers at South Plains where audience members can pay to tease the producer and members of the staff in various ways.

At the moment, I was stunned and excited. I felt challenged in a good way.

Then there was Jayson again, this time collecting money for a cause I strongly supported. (I don’t even think there was anything particularly sexy going on.) I dug into the bank a bit, adjusted my budget, and threw in. He was there again, a constant if perhaps unknowing part of my journey to find inclusion. And while he might not have been paying attention, it felt good that he had been there when Goddess Indigo challenged me to step up to my own inclusion.

So I left South Plains still needing to write this post and start a conversation. But I also had new ideas about how I could be part of the energy of those moments.

If watching the sexy was difficult, perhaps being part of it would be easier.

Not So Much

The next month, my vassal and I found ourselves at an unconference. One of the great things about an unconference is that you can request someone teach you something. She asked if I wanted to learn how to give a lap dance so I could participate at the next year’s SPLF. I was nervous, but I had been offered a chance, and listening to the universe is something core to our dynamic. I could not quite bring myself to say yes, I wanted to learn. Instead, I told her that if she wanted to put it on the session board, I would get into the right headspace.

She did, and someone agreed to teach us. They were wonderful, showing patience and compassion for me.

It was one of the most humiliating experiences of my kink journey. I was hoping for validation that I was part of our community. I was hoping to learn how to feel more sexy. Instead, I learned that I do not think about moving my body the same way the rest of you do. I couldn’t understand what I was being asked to do or how to get my body to do it. Many of the references we tried to use were visual in ways that did not work for me. Eventually I did learn some exercises I could use to move toward my goal, but if I go that route it will be a long journey, far more difficult than I expected. As others have pointed out since, I may even get to the end of the journey and produce something that comes across as sexy for others, but does not make me feel sexy because my perceptions of sexy are different than sighted people. It was such a mixture of positive and negative feelings: the love I felt for my vassal for supporting me and trying to bring about the things I asked for; the gratitude for the person who agreed to help us and for their understanding; and the bitter humiliation and disappointment at the result.

I came seeking validation and belonging. Instead, I felt like a freak because of my blindness. I felt more distant.

Back Around to Southwest

It had been an entire year. I still had not written this post. I still had not started a community discussion. What I knew for sure is that I wanted to have that discussion. I wanted to matter enough that the community was willing to at least think about how to include me. Jayson was there again. I could at least talk to him: I had gotten contact information at SPLF, but around the time I was going to reach out, we hit the unconference, and I was facing the vulnerability of that experience. I felt like Jayson had shared this journey with me. I didn’t even know if he viewed things that way.

So I found him at his bootblack stand and we talked while he worked on my leather. He said that his leather family had talked about how to include people like me on the way to the conference. I talked about the struggle I had faced over the year—admitting my needs, struggling to write about our interactions, and the unsuccessful attempt to learn to give a lap dance. He understood what I was going through. He wanted to welcome people like me; he understood why working on this was uncomfortable but wanted to do it anyway.

I cried. I felt cared for and validated.

That night, we had the contest and the accompanying sexy fundraisers. For the first time ever, it was something I could participate in. It was both wonderful and uncomfortable. Actually being able to immerse myself in the full energy of the event was amazing. But I also felt exposed: how much had the organizers changed the event based on what happened last year? How much were my needs impacting what was chosen? I doubt my needs were the only factor: changing up what happens is always good, and plenty of people were into the format chosen that year. Yet knowing the people involved, I suspect my request to be included was something they considered.

It is vulnerable to ask for something and watch what it costs others to give you what you asked for—vulnerable and humbling. As an example of that cost, the MC at Southwest put themselves in a more vulnerable position because of the fundraiser they chose to put on. It’s also vulnerable to realize you are part of a change. Now because of you and your differences (and desire to be included), things are more complicated. I kept asking myself whether my desire to be included was worth the disruption, all while grinning and giddy from the sense of welcome and acceptance I was feeling from the community.

There was another uncomfortably wonderful moment of inclusion later in the evening. A video started to play; set to music was a list of the previous winners of the contest (possibly accompanied by pictures). I felt two hands on my shoulders as Jayson DaBoi stepped up behind me and started to read the names of the winners. He realized that no one was including me in sharing that part of our history and decided to fix that. It was intimate: I had not asked to be touched, but the touch was powerful. It felt connecting and drew me in more than the words alone. I had not asked for the words either. I had not known that I wanted—needed—either the words or the touch. It felt so amazing that someone cared enough to pull me into that moment. (And in the interest of promoting a consent culture, my interactions with Jayson earlier in the day had made the touch welcome even if un-asked-for. I am not inviting strangers to include me in their touch without asking first.)

Yet why did Jayson need to be reading me the video? Why didn’t I ask my vassal sitting next to me to read the words? I did not like the answers I found as I examined myself. I was so used to being excluded from moments like the video that I had stopped looking for ways to be included: much of the world wasn’t available. That was just how it was; I didn’t want to be a burden. In that mindset, asking my vassal definitely would be a burden. No not to her: I trust her service. But what if her words disrupted the music for those sitting around us? What if including me disrupted the artistic presentation of that audio visual experience?

What if? Is that small disruption worth including me in the history of our community? Apparently not in my mind, at least not until Jayson’s touch and gentle voice opened that door. Once that door is opened, I start asking questions about whether there’s a way that those names could have been read into the video? There was clearly time to read the names out as the pictures scrolled. Would that be so bad?

Conclusions

I think there’s a lot to discuss here. Including me in the sexy fundraisers changes things, often in ways that have implications for the vulnerability of others:

• Finding someone who provides descriptive video just to people who need it might be awkward. Do I find the person? Is that something I can ask for help from the event?

• In some ways it might be easier to find someone like Lee Harrington or Dominion Onyx who is providing descriptions to the whole room. However that significantly changes the intimacy for those involved in being sexy. It’s one thing to be doing something, but another to be doing something and have specific words attached and locked into what you are doing.

• The kind of approach taken at Southwest this year is vulnerable for those involved. Also, even I would be sad if we moved everything towards that style of sexy fundraiser rather than including it in a mix of things we do sometimes.

Yet it was wonderful to finally be included in that energy as we all let go a little and came together as a community to support our shared programs. I want to be welcomed enough to be part of the equation for what we consider. It’s fine if I am not included all the time in the activities we eventually decide on; actually having my needs be one of the factors that we sometimes consider and sometimes center would be enough to feel welcomed and valued.

As for the videos we use to showcase accomplishments and history? I think there’s real work to do there.

Then there’s the really big discussion: moving from simply talking about accessibility to actually including people in our community. The rest is all facets of that larger discussion. I don’t even know where or how to have that discussion. So far everyone is stuck on simple issues of accessibility, and to some extent on the accessibility issues we do not know how to solve. Everyone assumes it is a challenge for event organizers.

Inclusion is bigger, more vulnerable. Inclusionr is about all of us. But, as we’ve seen, inclusion is uncomfortable. Accessibility has that shared exit we have all agreed to: no reasonable accommodation. Once we move onto inclusion, we have the real discomfort of one set of needs coming up against another, with everything on the table. And so when we decide not to include someone, it isn’t because we couldn’t—because there was nothing reasonable to do. No, it’s because we chose not to: we chose to value one set of needs over another. There’s nothing wrong with that choice, but it sure is uncomfortable.

I look forward to finding a place to have these discussions. I also look forward to hearing others’ stories of vulnerability and inclusion.

In September, I had a great conversation about conference accessibility. I speak from the standpoint of someone who is totally blind, but of course I only speak for myself. Other people who are blind have different lived experience; some things may be easier or harder than they are for me. Each of us has things we are comfortable with and things that call to our fears and uncertainty.

These are notes I used to start our conversation, edited to emphasize things I found during the conversation and to hopefully be more clear.

Do not use this as a checklist to see how accessible your conference is! Seriously, I know I'm about to say this in the executive summary, but everyone who has looked at this sits down and tries to figure out how their conference/community stacks up. That's not really the point. We are all volunteers; we have many priorities before us. Unless you're running a conference called Blinded by Kink (and if you are, please reach out and let me know about your event), accessibility for people who are blind or face visual challenges is not your top priority. If you went and focused on all these issues, accessibility in other areas would suffer.

Instead, I invite you to take this as an opportunity to learn about issues people who are different than you might face. After all, the first step in being inclusive is to educate ourselves. But the second step is to actually reach out to the people who we want to include, hear their story, and hear what's important to them. So reach out to the people in your community who face accessibility challenges and ask them what issues are important to them. Focus on those issues. The education is still important in case someone new comes into your community with an issue you have not yet focused on.

Executive Summary

I think the best way to approach accessibility is to educate yourself on the issues, and then to ask people in your community what they need. I’ve talked about what I think some of the likely issues are. To achieve diversity in our community, accessibility needs to be more than participating in a conference; we also need to think about accessibility in terms of how people join our community. Without that, our community will never be welcoming/inclusive for people with disabilities.

Why focus on Asking?

Different people, even with similar abilities, will need different things. For example if I'm bringing my vassal to a conference where she will generally be in service to me most of the time, and where I'm just going to be a participant rather than trying to get involved in the community, I may need close to nothing in terms of accessibility. If you spent a lot of time making something available in braille, I'd feel awkward because I'd have no intent to use it, and you might be frustrated that you went to a lot of effort that didn't end up being helpful. Asking what someone needs, especially when you come from a reasonably educated position about what the answers might be and are able to work with someone is almost always going to help someone feel welcome.

General Accessibility for Visual Disabilities

That said, here are some of the issues that you might want to be prepared to address when they come up in your community.

Website Accessibility

Is your website accessible? Can a screen reader user navigate elements like schedules? Can they register successfully?

• HTML including HTML tables is generally accessible. Tabular information presented with HTML divs rather than real tables may be harder to get accessibility working right for. (It's totally possible, it just means you have to do more work with ARIA attributes yourself).

• Text in PDFs that are produced by page layout software or office suites is generally accessible. It's generally possible to get the text out of tabular layouts in such PDFs, but for example figuring out a schedule table from such a PDF may be tricky or even approaching impossible depending on a number of factors.

• Scanned PDFs an images are generally not accessible at all. For images, that may not be a big deal: a photo gallery is never going to do much for me. But having a conference program that was scanned and thus not accessible at all would be disappointing.

• I've run across registration systems that try to be too clever with e-signatures. "Hold down your left mouse button and draw a signature in the box." That's not accessible at all, and is completely unnecessary. If I can e-sign all the preliminary disclosures for buying a house just by clicking sign here and typing in my name, I definitely don't need to draw a signature to attend a conference.

Attendee Information

How much of the information attendees need is on your website? Your website is likely to be more accessible to people with visual disabilities than material you hand out at registration. People can use screen readers or zoom in, adjust the color scheme, and adjust fonts, depending on their needs. So, if information like class descriptions and schedule information is on the website it will be more accessible.

For blind attendees, a map of the venue on the website isn't likely to be helpful and I can appreciate why it might be desirable not to leak that information digitally. For low vision attendees being able to zoom the map might be helpful; it depends on the attendee and on whether they have physical magnifiers with them that could zoom a physical map.

• Do you update your website with last minute schedule changes?

• If not, how will people find out about these schedule changes?

• Does your website contain copies of legal agreements, waivers, etc that you ask people to sign? if not, are you prepared to read these agreements to someone at registration without making them feel bad for wanting to fully review what they are signing? Pressuring someone to accept a summary weakens your legal position and is dehumanizing.

• Does your website contain dungeon rules and requirements? Is someone who cannot read posted signs going to potentially be surprised by requirements they are unaware of? If not, how will you handle conveying this information?

Getting Around

How will someone with a visual disability get around the venue? This is an area where someone's ability and comfort affects what will work for them a lot.

What I tend to do when attending a conference alone is something like:

• At check in to my room, have the hotel work with me to confirm I understand the route from the elevator to my room (and back) as well as the route from the elevator to some common area.

• There's a lot of hanging around common areas and asking for help getting places. This works surprisingly well unless a conference is very spread out. If the conference is very spread out I may need help from the conference staff. At such conferences, I try to know how to find staff.

• Pay attention to situations where I might get stuck and make sure I have a way to get un stuck. As an example, if someone is taking me to a classroom, and there's no one else there, evaluate whether I have confidence in my ability to get back to a common area if no one ever shows up for the class. If I don't I might end up abandoning the class. If that happens more than once, try to get cell phone numbers for hotel or conference staff so I can avoid the situation in the future.

That or some variation has worked well for me, but I have years of experience going to professional conferences on my own. What I described above might be completely frightening for someone with different experience.

Electronic Device Policies

How will someone who cannot write take notes? If the website is part of the accessibility solution, will your policies allow someone to access it when they need to?

This is an area where there are legitimate privacy concerns that go against accessibility. If you aren't going to be as accessible as you would like because of privacy, I'd recommend treating people with compassion. I'd also make sure that your policies, viewed as a whole make sense and achieve your objectives. I'd recommend differentiating policies that make people feel safer from policies that actually achieve safety and privacy. It's a lot easier to understand why my accessibility is being sacrificed for real privacy than it is for security/privacy theater.

• Allowing phones but not computers is discriminatory. In many ways, especially when I'm writing, I can be much faster with a computer than a phone. I cannot effectively take notes with a phone--on-screen keyboards are very slow in an accessible mode. Phones have at least as many recording devices as computers.

• If you are going to have privacy policies that restrict accessibility, either enforce them or get rid of them. It was really frustrating to be at Colorado Leather Fest (which on paper didn't allow any electronic devices beyond what presenters used for presentations), to have people regularly be getting out their cell phones to show each other cute pictures, to have presenters encourage people to take notes on cell phones, but to have the no computer policy be strictly enforced for everyone but presenters.

Dungeons

Bwahahaha. I have no idea how to approach dungeon accessibility. It's mostly not an issue unless you had two visually disabled people wanting to play together, or someone wanting to self-suspend or similar.

Here are some of the problems I run into:

• Knowing what equipment is available. Generally solvable by looking around before things get busy. This may be a case where offering to help give someone a tour of the dungeon is helpful. If they are new, offering to give a tour when the dungeon is unused so they can actually touch the equipment could be very helpful.

• Moving through the dungeon while it is busy without interrupting a scene. I ran into a bit of trouble recently; one of my play partners and I had picked out some equipment. I needed to go to the bathroom before we started, and she assumed I would meet her back at our equipment. But there was no way I could navigate across the dungeon to get to her. Obviously we've sense adopted protocols to avoid that situation, and I don't think a conference could really solve this for me, but it illustrates how difficult things can be.

• Knowing where cleaning supplies are, where trash cans are, etc.

Contests

Are contest rules discriminatory? Do you have reasonable latitude to make accommodations in the moment without say needing to have a board meeting or publish a revised rule book. This is easier to explain with examples:

• Generally in a title contest the contestant draws a pop question, reads it, the question is read to the audience, and then the contestant answers. If the rules require a contestant to be able to read a written question, that's discriminatory. Probably what you want to happen is for someone to privately read the question to the contestant; having them wait to hear it at the same time as the audience probably creates a disadvantage. You almost certainly could get a group of contestants and judges to agree in real time to some way of doing this that everyone thought was fair. An accessible set of rules would give you the flexibility to do this even if you discovered the issue at the last moment. At least a couple versions of contest rules we've looked at appear to grant sufficient flexibility that they should be fine.

• Some things are just going to be inherently different. As an example, I couldn't see a judge nodding and couldn't see their body language indicating that they had heard enough of an answer in interview questions. I don't think it's the contest or conference's job to do anything about this---how could they. Instead I'd try to be open and vulnerable about my limitations; turn it into a way to stand out as different and to start a conversation about how to connect even when there are differences in communication.

My point in the two examples is to illustrate that there are classes of cases where the conference/contest has an accessibility responsibility and cases where there's nothing to be done at that level.

Inclusion

The above covers the issues I can think of in terms of making the conference accessible to an individual participant. But when we talk about diversity, the discussion eventually needs to turn to inclusion and creating a welcoming community. These conferences are more than just educational/play opportunities. They are also key parts of our community—opportunities for how you become a member of the community and contribute back.

For us to achieve diversity, people need to be able to do more than just go to classes. They need to be welcomed into the community.

It’s been my experience that we don’t have a good answer for how to welcome blind participants in that way. Everyone’s initial reaction has been a desire to help, but I’ve run into struggles making it happen. To be inclusive this needs to be part of accessibility. I am currently working trying to find answers to these issues.

Volunteering is one of the ways that we gate-keep our community. We have tasks that everyone can do to get involved, get noticed, and get a feel for how things happen. Things like:

• Run errands for conference organizers

• Work security/registration

• Help set up event spaces

Except not everyone can do these things. Most of them involve being able to get around a space without help. Most involve being able to read and write normal printed papers.

Even before we tell people to volunteer, we tell them to watch what goes on. Go to a dungeon; watch a bunch of scenes. Make eye contact with people after to see if they would be open to talking to you about what they did. Once you know people make eye contact to see if people would be open to a conversation about playing or co-topping or joining a scene. All of that involves being able to see well.

I cannot do most of that. And yet there are ways I’d love to contribute:

• The theme of the 2023 Master/slave Conference will be “one heart at a time,” referring to how we change people’s lives through our individual interactions. I’m good at talking about M/s, kink, spirituality, sexuality, love, and their intersections. Times when I’ve had an opportunity to sit down and talk with people and exchange experiences have been some of the most important moments in my life. From what people have told me, these experiences have changed their lives too. Most of all I’d love to find a position in the community where I can do that.

• I’d love to teach classes and guide conversations. I think I’m good at that; I have done so in small situations since 2013, and recently my vassal and I have been expanding what we teach.

• I can be an effective spokesperson, helping people understand issues, feel welcome, and understand constructive ways of approaching conflict.

• I’m reasonably organized and have experience leading volunteer projects/communities (although not in organizing conferences).

But the areas where I at least see myself as contributing effectively are all high-level. How do I prove myself? How do I earn trust. As an example how do I gain a reputation sufficient to be accepted as a presenter? How do I get recognized enough that people would suggest I might be a reasonable person to talk to, especially when my disability makes many of the protocols we use for negotiating approachability not work for me? I’m starting to find answers for myself. I’m starting to teach classes in my local communities—branching out from the small communities where I have been working for years. I am looking at the various title contests.

But to create a diverse, inclusive, accessible community, we need to be able to help answer these questions whenever our normal ways of getting involved don’t work for people. I don’t know what that would look like, but I appreciate this opportunity to organize my thoughts about the challenge and start thinking about possible solutions.

Recently I've been confronting being blind and how that affects my participation in the kink community. Why now? I’ve never been shy about being blind or asking for help.

That’s true, but I’ve generally minimized how much I think about being blind. I do the things I can do, ask for minor changes, and ignore the rest. That’s 8 parts healthy positive thinking and two parts avoidant behavior. Recently, the stuff I’ve been ignoring has started catching up with me. I’ve realized that without a bit more focus, I wasn’t getting what I needed.

childhood Background

I had the best parents ever. They gave me all sorts of opportunities, and never focused on what I couldn’t do. They never let being blind get in the way. I played at being a doctor, a construction worker, a fireman, a hair dresser—whatever I liked. (Interestingly despite their recent conservative leanings, I was never pushed toward play associated with a particular gender identity.) So, I grew up believing I could do anything and being blind would not get in the way.

In many ways, that was great. I accomplished things people were skeptical I could do. Blind people weren’t supposed to be good at geometry or biology. I aced both classes.

But as a consequence, I had a couple of blind spots in how I approached the world. I am not used to focusing on the things I cannot do.

Recent Realizations

After moving to Denver, I realized that I needed to do something different. I was interacting with people but not really becoming part of the community. As I started to think about it and listen to advice for how to become involved, it became obvious that this was a situation where I could not ignore being blind:

• We recommend new people spend some time watching scenes to learn what happens.

• Much of our discussion of how to interact with a bottom talks about learning to read their body visually. There are other ways to connect, but that’s what we focus on.

• At Topside Talk we recommend the way to become involved in the community is to become the best at something; regularly be seen in the dungeon doing something showy and interesting enough (and be the best at it) that you get noticed. I’m not entirely in agreement that this advice is healthy even ignoring the visual component, but as given it certainly doesn’t work for me either as the one watching or being noticed.

• In other aspects of the community, we recommend people get involved and show interest by volunteering—perhaps helping confirm people are members at the door, learn to be a dungeon monitor, fetch/carry various things, etc. Most all of that is visual.

• And even if I found an initial way to volunteer, all the more senior positions in the community are very visual in how they interact with paperwork or in other aspects.

• Consider all the ways in which we recommend eye-contact as a way to see if someone is busy or is available and open to being approached.

Facing this has been hard. @Lee Harrington was running one of their classes on disability and kink. I’ve been at events before with classes focusing on disability. I had never gone—I have other things to focus on, I thought. I was afraid of how others would react to me. Because like any other minority, one person’s needs are not the same as another’s. Many of the times I’ve tried to work with other blind people, I’ve been told I’m going about being blind all wrong. I use the wrong tools, I shouldn’t be able to do the things I do, and suggesting that others consider the approaches that work for me is somehow ignoring my privilege. Doubtless I do have privilege, even in being blind, and yes I have gone my own way in a lot of respects. Still, my experience reaching out to spaces that were supposed to be safe is that they often haven’t been. Now, I absolutely do trust Lee to create a safe space. But I found that as the class approached, I just didn’t have the emotional energy to be ready for that. Which in its own way was a real wake up call. If I am having trouble facing an issue enough to work on it, then it definitely does need work.

I did go to my first class covering lifestyle and mental health/disability at MSC. It was good, in that it helped me get out of a rut.

Finding my Own way

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m different, and will need to find my own way. The general recommendations we give everyone probably won’t work for me. I’ve tried to stop judging myself by standards set up for people who are sighted. Feeling shame that I’m not good at reading body language will distract me from the successes at reading the energy of a situation. And yes, I’m always going to need more verbal communication than some people.

I’ve also accepted a shift and realized that more of my focus is on M/s and relationships than it is on playing in the dungeon. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a kinky fuck, but I don’t need to judge myself based on how much play I get or on how much interest in play there is. Yes, some of the people I respect in the community do identify their success related to their play. I am not a failure because I don’t live up to someone else’s success metrics. I know that trap, but goddess, even knowing it’s a trap, it is easy to get caught.

So, what is my path? What are the ways I can get involved in the community even if the traditional entry paths aren’t a great fit for me?

Discussions

I’ve found I am good at participating in discussions. I am articulate; I understand some of the issues that affect M/s, kink, poly, and spiritual; and I can present things in a way that others can connect with. Joining a community through discussions involves balancing being vocal against the humility of sitting back and making sure everyone is heard.

Classes

I’ve been teaching on and off for a long time. Now, presenting and putting together classes is becoming a key focus both for me and my vassal. It is a way to reach people and to give back. The trick is to gain sufficient reputation that people will be willing to take a risk on our classes. We taught two classes September 24th; they were well received and we’re applying to other venues and developing additional content.

Contests

My vassal and I were sitting at the 2022 Colorado Master/slave contest interviews this spring. After, she turns to me and says “We could do that.” I had been sitting there thinking much the same thing—thinking about how I wished we had an opportunity to share our story with the community, to help others, and to stand in front of the world showing people what our slice of M/s was like. I just didn’t expect my vassal would be open to doing something that public.

I hope we win; we would love to have a chance to serve the community that way. However, even running for the contest is a way that we can get involved in the community. In exchange for submitting to the contest, the judges and some portion of the community agree to listen to what you have to say and vet whether you are in alignment with the community. It’s a way of saying this is our home; we are part of this; we want to give back. If we have valuable things to say and an interesting perspective, people will know that regardless of whether we win. And again, if we are doing our jobs, even during the contest, there will be someone out in the audience touched by what we say, encouraged to reach further than they otherwise would have. After all, that’s what happened to us: we listened to the people at the front of the room and they gave us the courage to try to share our story.

One Heart at a Time

The theme of next year’s Master/slave conference is “One Heart at a Time.” It’s the individual connections that profoundly change people’s lives. It might be a word of encouragement at the right time, seeing someone we can relate to, an answer to a pressing question, or seeing a lived relationship.

I value doing that work. It’s hard because reaching out to people in a crowd is one of the places where eye-contact matters most. I’m approaching this in two ways. I’m co-hosting the Denver Munch. I’m also working as an ambassador at Denver Sanctuary, available to answer questions from new people. The munch is working well. I think there are other people who are filling the role at Sanctuary well enough that it is not a big deal that I’m not being as effective as I like.

What Isn’t Working Great

Writing this post, I realized that I have made much more progress than I at first thought. I think I have made great strides in being more intentional about my disability and how it affects my participation. I still think there are some areas to work through. I think there are still areas where the lack of ability to make eye contact is making it harder for me to connect. I think I need to find better ways to express an openness to deepening a connection. I realize that’s hard for everyone, but I suspect there are cases where the lack of body language is getting in the way. I’m still struggling trying to figure out how I relate to dungeons, public play, and some related things like that. Some of that is related to being blind. Some of that is just general growth, rejecting others’ expectations, and deciding who I want to be.

Participating in discussions of disability and figuring out how active i want to be in thinking about disability issues is still a work in progress. I know I need to face my frustrations and fears and be more involved. Yet I’m not the first member of a marginalized community who wants to focus on themselves and their interests rather than being identified by some attribute of themselves. I want to be more than blind. Yet thinking more about how this affects me has already helped me achieve my goals of involvement.

A couple weeks ago, one of the local clubs had a top tasting. There were several stations designed to let people practice and learn skills related to being a BDSM top. My vassal and I ran a station focused on energetic connection.

It was lots of fun and I think we helped several people really level up their BDSM and relationship skills. For most people we focused on intent, because the most important thing you can do to get energy going the way you want is to know what sort of energy you are looking for. The intent of a scene is more than just what tools you will use and what you will physically do with those tools. It is as much about what emotions you are looking for. How does the top want to feel at the end of the scene? What about the bottom? What will each of them do to achieve that? Are there words or ways of connection that will help enhance that? Often just keeping in mind what you are looking for will influence how you approach an interaction in a way that enhances the intent.

We also talked about explicit mechanisms for connecting with and manipulating energy. This involved working the feel energy between two people as well as things like breathing exercises. For people who had experience already, we work through chacras and various approaches for using meditation to move energy around.

As relatively short individualized instruction, this worked well. It will also work well as a full-length class. We are looking forward to finding a venue to present that. If you'd be interested in such a class, let us know and we'll keep you informed when we find a place to teach it.

Recently my vassal and I were on a trip to get some much-needed healing. We lived for a few months in a new city. While there, we put out an ad in the local kink community seeking play, relationships, whatever might come to pass. Sure, it's unlikely you're going to find love while on vacation at a major tourist destination. And if you are, it isn't very likely that an internet personals ad is going to bring you that love. But as we have learned again and again, the universe rewards those who ask.

Some of the responses were what you expect from the Internet. A straight guy told us we could both suck his cock; he said (having never met me) that I had good cock-sucking lips. Alas, we will all remain ignorant of what good cock-sucking lips are, because he never responded when I asked.

One response stood out. We'll call him H. He asked some questions about polyamory. After exchanges some answers we got together for drinks. We had the opportunity to help someone who was exploring how he thought about relationships. We were able to show him that through communication and intentional love work, we had built something wonderful between us.

We were also able to show H that that his fears and doubts were a normal part of growing as a lover. Everyone goes through something similar. That doesn't make them less real, less important, or even less personal. It does give us a greater hope of empathy.

One of the biggest challenges H faced is that negotiation and communication about what relationship structure he's hoping for seem awkward and challenging especially at the beginning. Of course he's absolutely right. Negotiation gets easier with time, but it starts out hard. We need to be vulnerable enough to ask for what we want at a point where we may not even be comfortable admitting it to ourselves. We don't know whether our desires will come across as strange, or how they will be received. We don't even know if our vulnerability will be greeted with compassion. Yes, some of that is always true, but as we get experience and confidence, it gets easier.

My vassal and I didn't have any easy answers. But we were able to help H think about the different options for how poly might work, and give practical examples of how communication worked. We were also able to tell our stories of how negotiation worked in practice both around scenes and around relationship boundaries. We didn't make it easy, but we walked away feeling like we'd managed to demystify some of the hard work of being a lover.

If it ended right there, I would have been happy with a job well done. But a couple of weeks later, H wrote to my vassal to explore the possibility of getting together for some play. And so H got to practice negotiation and he worked with my vassal to see what was possible. I found myself teaching an introductory rope class.

So many things worked well. It was gratifying to see H picking up on negotiation skills and asking for what he wanted while being clear about his boundaries. This also required more advanced negotiations from my vassal and it was neat to see how far she's come in the kink community. For myself, I realize that my rope skill has reached a level where I can confidently and safely introduce someone to rope. It felt really good to acknowledge that growth. And it felt good to see H begin to take strides in something he had wanted to explore for a while.

All around that was some good Sacred Lover work. Intimacy comes in many flavors. I'm glad that as we traveled the world we reached out to see whose lives would cross our path.

Last Month, a former convention chair of Arisia

wrote

that she would not be attending the convention, because her rapist

was president of the organization yet again. Crystal showed amazing

courage and vulnerability as she told her story.

This was hard for me because I know the people involved. I

am reasonably sure that I've been introduced to Crystal a number of

times. I worked on a project with Noel a few years ago. I have been at

parties hosted by some of the Arisia board members who were involved in

the incident. That makes the event more viscerally real for me. Arisia

is not my primary community: I have gone in the past

sometimes, but I’ve never been on a panel or staff. However, I feel I

need to learn what I can to try to create a safer world and to try and

avoid these mistakes myself.

Because I know the people involved, I keep wondering whether I will end

up in one of these roles.

We need Safe Space

First, Arisia had been regarded as one of the better conventions for

handling incidents and consent issues. I have been in multiple

conversations where people suggested that parts of the kink community

struggling with consent could learn in positive ways from Arisia. The

training staff received in incident handling was held up as a

particularly good thing about Arisia’s approach.

We must treat people better than Crystal is treated in order to create

safe space. I am disappointed, because I thought Arisia was a relatively

bright spot in the bleak landscape of our rape. It’s just that much harder to hope that we will find a way to

create truly safe spaces for intimacy and vulnerability.

Will I wake up a Rapist?

As consent has become something we talk more about, I'm aware of

ever more situations where people I know are accused of violating

consent. Where I have information on the specifics, it supports the

claim that there is a consent problem. Yet most of these people are

people I would have trusted. In at least one case I learned a lot about

consent from a member of my community who was later excluded because of

consent violations.

I keep coming back to this because I don’t understand how this abuse

happens. Because I only know about the problems after the fact, it

seems like people I know and trust are suddenly turning abusive. So I

worry that I’ll somehow snap and start hurting people.

I've concluded that at least as far as snapping and becoming a rapist

the fear is irrational. For example, I cannot see myself making the

mistakes Noel made. I cannot see myself disregarding a written

agreement on boundaries, especially on barrier protection. If I did

somehow disregard that, I cannot see myself blowing past a response of

“what the fuck!” No matter what, I would not stalk someone who had

ended a relationship. So, no, no series of mistakes that I could see

myself actually making would lead me to hurt someone this way.

Yet because I don’t understand how abuse happens, it is harder to

convince myself that I am different. For me, I think this is the root

of hearing about a situation and wondering whether there’s some

misunderstanding at play even when the facts point to clear abuse.

Sadly, I have been the Arisia Board

This brings back memories of the first time I was asked to deal with an

incident. It was late in the academic year in 1998 or 1999, and I was

on the executive committee of a student organization. An issue about

safety and consent came up. None of us had any training, and we were

entirely out of our depth. We sought help from the school. The advice

might have been good. The delivery lacked any empathy for our position;

we were unable to hear it.

We asked all the wrong questions. “Why do we have to decide this? If

you have a problem go to the campus police or press charges.” We

quibbled over the nature of the alleged violation. The person had made

contributions; we did not want to drive them away.

The world conversation on consent has advanced since 1998. I regretted

our behavior at the time: people were clearly getting hurt. I regret it

now. I wished we had done more to create a safe community.

At one level I can empathize with the Arisia board. As I discussed, the

abusers are members of our community who make positive contributions.

Until we learn of the abuse, we have no reason to think anything is

wrong. We want to give people the benefit of the doubt. We want to

find compromise. We want to solve the problem. My empathy does not

make their behavior (or my behavior at MIT) acceptable.

At another level, I can also empathize with the expressions of harm from

victims facing these processes. The one time

I reported an incident, I was ignored and then later told that I had

contacted the wrong person.

I am growing increasingly disheartened when I think about consent

incidents. It seems like no matter how much we read, even if we go to

training, we are unprepared to handle these incidents until we gain

significant experience ourselves. I guess that’s not surprising: most

things work that way. We need to find a better way: real people are

getting hurt as we gain that experience. I suspect several members of

the Arisia board will be better prepared for the next big consent

problem. The price for them to learn is too high.

Even now, I don’t think I’m prepared to handle a significant consent

incident. That’s not a requirement for my roles in the events I

attend. Yet all of us could face a problem like this if we host parties

in our homes. Thinking about this issue, I realize I need to learn

more.

I will Wake up and hurt Someone

My irrational fear of being someone’s rapist is not my only fear about

hurting someone. I know that I have hurt people I cared about, and I

suspect I will again. Crystal’s incident is one where the consent

violation is clear. That’s not always the case. Sometimes boundaries

are unclear. Sometimes we realize our boundaries are more restrictive

than we thought. That’s one of the many ways we hurt each other as we

approach intimacy.

Some of the work I do is explicitly about pushing limits. You will get

hurt some of the time doing that work.

Often when we hurt each other, we can work through the pain and become

stronger. Sometimes that doesn’t work. I hope this never rises to the

level of a reported incident, but I realize that’s a real possibility.

I’ve certainly been uncomfortable around people I used to work with;

they have been uncomfortable around me.

If communities are bad at the clear-cut cases, I have no reason to

believe they are good at the cases that are actually complex.

I want to be in communities that will help me be safe if I am hurt. I

want to be in communities that will respect my contributions over the

years. I expect to be held accountable for my actions. However, I also

expect to be valued and not tossed aside at the first sign something

might be wrong without any real consideration of the circumstances.

That’s a tall order and I know we’re not there. It’s frightening to

choose to be vulnerable and to pursue intimacy work realizing that when

I need it most, support might not be available.

No Real Solution

Finally, back to Crystal’s post. After her post, Noel resigned as

president and the Arisia board permanently banned him from the

convention.

Great, I guess. We now know that under public pressure, Arisia will act

to save their community. Sadly, only future actions will tell us

whether Arisia genuinely learned it had made a mistake or whether Arisia

is blown by the whim of public opinion.

At least in the immediate term, my trust in Arisia is actually decreased

by the prompt action. That’s irrational too. They had the information

to decide their code of conduct was violated all along. It shouldn’t

decrease my trust that they finally acted. Yet if the motivation is

really to do the right thing not to pacify an angry public and

presenters, why take so long to act? Not rational, but it is what it

is.

Conclusions

We have a hard battle ahead of us to create safe spaces and safe

communities. I admire Crystal for her openness and for sharing her

story. Stories both of successes and failures are essential to us

improving. I will honor her story by learning what I can and working to

be prepared if I’m ever called to handle an incident.

It’s not even clear we know what a good answer would look like yet.

Let’s go find out.

In the last post, I talked about how my beloved and I have become closer to each other. Our work has also brought us closer to the divine. I've had critical breakthroughs in how I approach Venus and my own spirituality.

Of course this story is deeply personal. However, it is also a story of prayer answered, the deep love the gods have for us, and the long winding path that is growth as a lover. I hope you will find a deeper appreciation for the complexity that is spiritual growth and our struggle to find something bigger than ourselves. Perhaps you will be able to see important steps along your path as I talk about mine.

Talking to the Gods

It's worth taking a brief diversion to explore what I mean when I talk about communicating with the gods. Everyone's experience is different. These days, most of what I hear from Venus is just thoughts or words within my head that have somewhat of a Venus feel to them. It's easier if I clear my mind with dance or meditation. Sometimes I'll get something that feels like it is bigger than myself but is not something I can clearly identify as a connection to Venus.

At the other end of the spectrum is drawing down or possession. We can invite the gods into ourselves. When I watch someone who has drawn a god, I typically see changes in personality or behavior. The specifics are very dependent on the gods involved. Confidence, a tendency to speak with authority about the future, and deep knowledge of our inner selves are common. Energetically there is often a presence; at my first Venus ritual, when she entered the space, my entire focus was drawn to her. It was almost an electrical tension. That was an extreme, but there is sometimes something of that effect for me.

There’s a spectrum of drawing down—a spectrum of how dominant the host is compared to the spirit. Is someone sitting on your shoulder, speaking into your ear? Alternately, are they speaking through your mouth? Or have you stepped aside entirely, offering your body and watching from a distance?

Unsurprisingly, the host’s memory of the experience is cloudy and tends to fade over time. What’s interesting is that to a lesser extent, most people present at such an experience have some accelerated memory fading. Some specific emotions, concepts or phrases may burn themselves into your memory brighter than the experience of your normal life. However, other details of the experience are often clouded even a few days later.

Our Journey Begins

Long before I placed my collar around her neck, we talked about the role of spirituality and the divine in our surrender. She wasn't sure that she could surrender to me, but she could definitely surrender to the goddess and offer herself to me in getting closer to that. As she wrote:

>…to expand one's life to its divine edges, uplift the person exalting you and then surrender in love and trust to them knowing that you're actually surrendering to the Universe. Wow.

That resonated with me. Surrender offers the opportunity to strip away layers of self. As I accept surrender, we have the opportunity to examine each layer that we fold back. I can offer a mirror as together we focus on and honor each layer we strip away. It is a small step from that to honoring the goddess within. As the layers fall aside and we approach our core self, that mirror becomes a powerful tool for acknowledging and honoring the gift of the surrender.

Of course the mirror is two-way. As I accept someone's surrender, they offer me a view into myself.

When we surrender from strength, we can use this as an opportunity to reflect our strength, beauty and even the imminent deity within ourselves. The power of the experience gives us deeper connection both with ourselves and those involved in the experience.

And so our journey of surrender and possession became a spiritual journey too. We use the work we do to get closer to the divine. Part of this work is continued mindfulness and respecting the gift of surrender and the connection we find. At the beginning, I assumed that is all we were doing: we would surrender, find each layer of beauty within, and offer that as a testament to the goddess's joy.

My beloved and her goddess had different ideas. As we were planning our first Beltane, we joined. I held space for her. I honored the beauty and love I found. In that space, she surrendered, and her goddess accepted the offered vessel. I am amazed at how easy it is for her to drawn down and accept the company of a goddess. In that moment, the goddess was fierce and bright. She was there to give “just a preview” of the journey we began. She approached me sexually with a strength and command alien to my beloved but familiar from previous interactions of the divine. After, we basked in our closeness and the unmistakable blessing we found. I was excited and a little frightened. If, as the goddess had so forcefully insisted, this was only a preview, what would the real experience be like?

We had begun a new phase of the journey. From time to time one or both of us would find that we had called and opened ourselves to something bigger. We accepted this divinity into ourselves and met in the grace we were offered. From my perspective, there was much less of the surrender to each other when our spirits met this way. However the work we did within our DS relationship prepared us: we were more comfortable being vulnerable and more open to accepting love.

Beltane

At Beltane, her goddess returned, meeting us in the Temple of Passion. She spoke of how across the ages and lives, I called to her, and how she was always there to answer. I was shocked: I had heard this before. The phrasing and the words felt like they were right out of Venus’s response to the consort from the Fires of Venus ritual opening. My beloved never attended a FOV event.

As our passion faded, we found ourselves offering healing to someone we met at the event. Our magics blended together. It was very different from the work I tend to do on my own. I tend to work with people to let them say what they need: having the other person ask is critical for a lot of what I do. She is guided by intuition and experience. Together, well, that was something.

Claiming my Beloved

In the coming months, I found myself struggling with dominance and the divine. Previously, when we found the divine, we tended to be surrendering more to the experience as a whole than establishing a DS dynamic between us.

However, as our DS dynamic expanded, I found that it was more rare that we would find something explicitly of the divine in our lovemaking. I rejoiced in claiming her. I rejoiced in accepting everything she offered and celebrating it.

Yet I didn’t call to the goddess in her as I claimed her. I certainly did offer the experience as an act of worship. The goddess who came to us before Beltane was big, larger than life. She didn’t seem like someone who would take kindly to being claimed. She didn’t seem someone I was worthy to claim.

However, this was an important phase. My beloved was growing comfortable surrendering to me. I was growing comfortable accepting her surrender. It was a beautiful celebration of the lover and beloved meeting each other.

My Lord

As our DS dynamic expanded, I decided I needed a title. I needed a way for her to address me and affirm the dynamic. “Master” didn’t accurately describe what we were. She doesn’t like “sir”.

She asked how I liked “my lord”. I imagined it in the best sense of a feudal lord: her service in exchange for my support and protection. She would be mine to use in building something greater—mine to protect so she could grow. She saw things the same way. That seemed a very big title, but big has been the hallmark of our relationship.

When I asked for a title, I didn’t anticipate it being used sexually. We were fucking, and the energy was building. She offered herself to me as “my lord.” I called to her as my vassal, claimed her physically and spiritually.

I opened myself, and there was a god waiting to step in. He called to her goddess. This was no egalitarian joining. No, this was the god claiming his prize after a long hunt. I don’t really remember much besides the intensity and the joy.

The goddess is big and strong. But so is my beloved. She surrenders from strength. When the goddess enters the hunt, she knows how the horned god will meet her. That has been part of the story from the beginning of time. And so, accepting the title led to a merging of our DS work and the journey to find the divine within.

We are Love

I’ve had a long time struggling to accept the personal regard of Venus or any other god. This is not unusual; in his dream, Chuck talks of his struggle to accept her positive regard. I attended a ritual in which Venus and Aphrodite were both drawn so we could better understand them both. My initial reaction was to be amazed at the ritual, except for one minor part. When Venus chose to speak to me, I was sure that the person hosting was leaking through way too much. How could Venus have such a personal connection to me? Sure, I had that kind of connection to her, but her picture painted was positive and deeply connected. I didn’t have any doubts when she displayed the same level of connection to others present.

It took me a couple of days to realize that my own fears and doubts got in the way of me connecting with my goddess. Why shouldn’t she have developed a relationship as deep and filled with love as I developed with her?

The spiritual journey we’ve embarked on has brought me even closer. One day, I realized that as her lord, I was calling to my beloved, claiming her goddess, asking for her surrender. Previously, when I’d been claiming her like that, I had at least partially submerged myself into something within, as if I called to a spark of the divine within, and let that flow forth to call to her goddess. It felt within myself yet separate from myself. But that day, there was me alone.

What was I doing? Had I found some new path to hubris? Was I despoiling the beautiful celebration and connection we found?

If so how? I found the same sense of awe and joy. I had confidence that the connection was real. I accepted her divine surrender just as I had done before. Part of me felt like a fraud. But the greater part was focused on the joy, awe and connection.

I thought back to Beltane, and the goddess who spoke of answering when she was called across the ages. Yes, that was the goddess speaking to the consort, but that was also the goddess to the very personal me covered in the sweat of our joining, holding her in that temple. So, I found myself facing the third truth: “You are Love.” The lover and beloved exist within each of us. That love that drives us is the same divine love that separates the god from the goddess that they might know and love each other. As Pat writes, “one of our central mysteries, that we are all Venus.”

It’s hard to accept myself as love. It’s so big. And yet if anything is a despoilment, I have come to believe it would be denying the power of the love I have to bring; denying myself as the goddess’s perfect child. I can truly be that spark—truly accept it as myself only in moments. Yet my beloved has given her lord that; to honor her, I needed to accept myself and see me as Venus would. Anything less would be unworthy of what she offers.

It all circles back. I was talking to her about what she had challenged me to accept. I let my mind drift back to that first Fires of Venus when I heard the goddess respond to the consort. My mind drifted to my dedication and my offer of service to Venus. I said I would walk her path and help bring her temple into the world so that the lover and beloved could circle each other. Be careful what you offer the gods; they are like to accept. And having offered, of course I was called to actually take on the role of the lover. For how could we have such a temple without a lover, and how could I build it if I were unprepared to step into those roles?

Give Thanks!

She sits across the table from me. She’s been talking about how all her money went on walk-about in a shopping spree in Florida that she wasn’t invited to. Eventually the bank will give it back after the fraud report is processed. But for now, she’s stressed and upset.

Months ago I said I wanted to possess her. We have played with it in the bedroom a bit. I’m developing confidence that she’s offering real surrender, not just a desire to hear certain words while we fuck. I realize that if she were mine, I could help her. What we’ve been talking about is big enough that I could offer real support through that dynamic. Well, no time like the present. There’s some danger that I’ll get slapped or make a bad situation worse, but if I’m right I can lend her strength through that possession.

“Mine,” I say. She asks me to repeat it with my hand on the back of her neck. It helps. She has offered enough of herself that claiming her is calming. In that moment I become sure that this is something wonderful and big. That moment will bring her to desire to wear my collar.

Writing about our journey is hard. It’s intimate because there’s no way I can pull out the part that is just my story. In writing I’m facing the familiar challenge of exposing my own vulnerability. But I’m also sharing the vulnerability of someone who is mine to protect. I’m sharing something sacred to us both.

Yet in our story, there is a bigger story that is important to share. Surrender is big, and it is important to try and share that bigness to help others along their path. I hope that people who have never played with this aspect of BDSM can better understand what is going on. More than that, surrender is a window to the vulnerability and connection that is at the core of love. Even if surrender is not a tool you would use, I hope you can gain another perspective on the heart of connection.

So let us begin. Let us tackle surrender viewed through the journey she and I take.

Strength of Surrender

To surrender—to be taken, to be possessed, call it what you will—requires strength. You need to know your own limits and be prepared to voice them. You need to be ready to accept your desires even as they turn into “no,” something that is never easy. You need to face the vulnerability of sharing your feelings and desires.

When you surrender in a loving relationship, you are surrendering to someone who hopes to see you grow, who hopes to see the relationship thrive. To do that, they need to know your fears and feelings, even the ones that are hardest to share. It takes strength to face the vulnerability of being that open.

And then there is the vulnerability of the surrender itself. You are giving someone power over yourself, your body or both. To willingly do that takes strength. Consider the moment that opened this entry. She gave me the power to reach past her hurt and fear and calm her. That same power is frightening. What if I’m not there when I’m needed? What if I treat openness with disrespect?

Active Surrender

What I ask requires more strength still. Just as my goddess charged me, I charge her to surrender actively. It is not one surrender I ask for but an ongoing commitment, a surrender of a thousand yesses.

When it came time for me to put I my collar around her neck, I handed her a key. She can take it off whenever she likes; the interesting question is when she can put it back on.

We rejoice in each yes we find. Each one is an opportunity for greater connection, for a new way for our souls to touch.

So, if surrender requires such strength, why do people do it? Aren’t the people strong enough to surrender themselves strong enough not to need it? There are many answers to that question. For us, one of the biggest is that the surrender provides a window into greater openness. Through that we find connection and intimacy. And through our successful surrender, we find ourselves even stronger. Even if we think of surrender as just one of the lover’s tools, all those tools are there for us to grasp.

Coming back to our story, the months between my initial desire and that February moment where I claimed her to settle were not spent idly. We discussed strength and surrender. She spent the time learning; she found her own community different than mine. She’s spent that time building the strength she will need and preparing. I’ve spent the time working to understand her and to gain confidence.

Creature of Joy, Love and Pleasure

Surrender, like any tool, can be used to many different effects. One Saturday we returned from dinner and with obvious nervousness, she handed me a gift. I opened the box to find a collar that she hoped I would place around her neck. I was surprised. Unbeknownst to me, she had been researching collars since that day I claimed her to calm. She wanted to offer herself as a gift and she wanted to find a way of doing that special to me. So, she found a collar with a bow and made me an offer similar to the Christmas scene in my story “A Gift of Humanity”. Her offer was much bigger though, and she wasn’t sure whether I’d think we were ready for that. Nor was I, but we worked over the next days to crystallize our intent.

We built something beautiful. In wearing my collar, she commits to face the world as a creature of joy, love and pleasure. I commit to holding space to make that safe for her and to guiding her journey. It’s not an easy thing I ask. I ask her to view the world through the lens of love and to cultivate the joy and pleasure she finds. I ask her to grow in her skill at doing that. On an ongoing basis, I ask her to be mindful of the world to appreciate the love and connection in it.

The mindfulness, the focus, and the growth are all a challenge. It is a challenge she welcomes: it’s already close to her nature. She is already strong in love’s skills.

Together we will challenge each other—bring out the best in each other. For the challenge I have set myself in guiding her is also difficult. I am there holding space for her. I’m mindful of her success, her growth, and I honor her surrender. She shares the joy and excitement she finds; I work to appreciate what she shares fully. And of course, I’m there supporting her when things are difficult.

A lot of the time, holding that space is about being mindful and about the subtle approach I take. Sometimes, though, it's very concrete. I was bringing her to Beltane. It was her first pagan sex camp; she was nervous. What if she couldn't fine space to regroup and be herself?

“If you can get it there, I’ve got a tent you could use.” That “introvert tent” became far more than a bundle of fabric. It became a symbol of listening and coming up with real solutions to the challenges I’m asking her to face. Knowing that we’re a team and we will find answers has helped her believe in me—believe in us.

Sacred Love and Lust

Together we’ve committed to celebrate each surrender and each joy as a sacred step on the path of love.

As in everything, the mindfulness and focus applies. When she says, “I love you,” we work to hear it fully; it becomes part of our ritual to re-enforce and build love. It does not fade to routine punctuation in our discourse.

Similarly, we embrace the silliness and laughter we find. I’m proud of the work we do to keep things fresh and focused and to avoid routine.

There’s also the lust, and that is as much an expression of love as any word or laughter. She offered herself to be used. She wants to be taken. I accept her offer fully. I embrace the opportunity to explore our animal natures. It’s OK—great in our case—to let go of the civilized and possess her physically. She’s a mammal, warm, wet, and fragrant. Whether I have her pinned under me as I spread her legs wide, or whether a curt word sends her into her favorite position, ready for mounting, she is mine to claim. I mark her with my scent, fill her, cover her, and with a hand in her hair or on her collar, pull back her head so the world can here her joy.

As we gain confidence with our lust, we find deeper acceptance of ourselves. The other day we were talking. She shifts, and I find her nuzzling my hand. I reach to explore and discover she’s in position. “Are you? …”

“Yes!” she said. With just a shift of position and her head against my hand, she’s broadcasting her need. She embraces her slut with no shame, open and waiting. So submissive. Her nuzzles say “Please!” but she has surrendered to what I will do or not do. As I mount her, the musk of last night’s joining fills the room. The evidence that she is already well-used excites us further.

Each time we find lust, it’s another way we build our love and connection. Sex doesn’t inherently mean love, but we work to make it mean that. The surrender is a big part of it. She knows how big her offer is. Every time I use her, every time I take her, the physical is re-enforced by the big offer she’s making. I know too. By honoring her offer, both in accepting it and cherishing the priceless gift, I show that I value both her and what she’s giving me. Since the surrender is active, we both know that she is mine to take only because again and again she wants to give something that big, and again and again, I honor and value it.

The lust feeds back into everything else. It drives to our most basic emotions. However the connection we gain there helps us appreciate each surrender—each yes—from each moment approaching the world as a creature of joy, love and pleasure to each “I love you.” And of course, the sex is another opportunity for us to be mindful.

My Struggle to Accept

Accepting surrender this big has not been easy. Respecting people’s needs, consent and negotiations are critical to my love work. I wouldn’t describe myself as a feminist but in many ways my thinking runs close to feminist principles. I do not want to contribute to the oppression of women.

It takes a lot of trust of myself and her to use her with confidence. Possessing someone is inherently about taking some control of them. Whether it’s just marking them as yours in some way, or whether you shape aspects of their life, you are exerting power over them. I want this to be a relationship of love, so I take on the responsibility of using that power wisely.

Yet she needs to feel possessed. I can’t achieve that without using the power she’s given me with confidence. I need to believe she’s mine to use, take and guide. She needs to feel that belief. I can’t ask what she wants quite the same way I would without a power dynamic. I still need to know, and it still involves a lot of asking and her expressing desires. Doing that without breaking the dynamic is a new skill. Exploring her desires while enhancing the feeling of control is another skill, but I haven’t achieved that one yet.

Several things along the way have reminded me how big and deep our connection is. Her cat died. I spent a lot of time holding space and comforting her. She was mine to settle and protect.

Somehow she let me know she was ready to be mine in another way. I was surprised she wanted sex. I had to suppress a part of myself rebelling at taking pleasure in my sub after she had suffered a loss just because she had given me access to her body. That’s not what was going on, though: she wanted this. We coupled, and I watched with joy as our joining became an act of healing. I still marvel at the gift I’ve been given where her surrender is deep enough to be meaningful even while facing loss.

I think the biggest single realization for me happened a couple of weeks after that. Masturbation has always been important to my love work; it’s been a physical anchor for my relationship with self. If someone is mine, I want that to be a part of how they honor their possession. I asked her to play with herself for me, and it became clear that her physical connection with self didn’t work the same way as mine. We discussed it after. She told me that while she didn’t get the value I was hoping she would, I could still ask her to do it for the value I got. I recoiled from the idea of using her without regard for her pleasure. She stopped me, and over a long conversation, I was reminded that she gets value in offering herself. Sometimes she’ll do things for me and because she values surrendering to me. I realized that to fully honor her surrender I will need to ask her to do that sometimes. I don’t need to invent things I’d like her to do. I need to be mindful of her needs and desires and meet her in a loving relationship that is pleasurable for both of us. But if I turn away from desires too often and deny her that chance to surrender to me, I can damage our relationship just as surely as if I do not keep her needs in mind.

I concluded I wanted us to focus on other things and at least at that time I did not ask her to adopt a masturbation practice. Since then, I have found things where I asked her to surrender to my needs. She said that outside of our dynamic she would have declined, but from what we’ve built together she found a yes.

The rewards of facing my growth are worth it. I think fondly of one case where I was able to accept her fully. One morning I returned unexpectedly early from a trip. I knew she was missing me, and I decided to surprise her. I told her that if she came over and showed me she was the slut I knew she could be, I’d ravish her before heading into work. I met her at the door for a brief safety check to make sure nothing had happened while I was away to take her to an emotional place I didn’t expect. As it turned out, she didn’t earn her ravishment that morning. In its own way, having the challenges be real adds to the depth of the experience. We both walked away with our love and connection rekindled, and I know she felt very possessed that morning.

I know that there’s difficulty ahead with the non-physical aspects of our dynamic. Right now the challenge there is exploring exactly what that means. We have the base: approaching life as a creature of pleasure, love and joy. We’re still learning what it means for her to be my creature of pleasure, love and joy. I look forward to facing that growth.

Writing this has helped me appreciate what we have. I hope that some of the deeper patterns—the ones that transcend any single relationship—show through.

A week ago I faced one of the most intense rituals of my life. In order to break through some of the spiritual walls that have plagued me for the last year, I joined a hook suspension ritual. The idea is that two large hooks will be run under the skin of your back and then you will be suspended from the hooks. As you might imagine, it's physically and emotionally intense, and in the right context that intensity can be very spiritual.

I'd like to share this note I wrote to the community discussing what a transformative experience it was.

I want to share my experience Saturday night. We have a wonderful tribe and I'd like to share exactly how amazing it is.

Background

I came into this set of rituals confused and deaf. I haven't been able to hear my gods clearly. Venus has been trying to say something in my dreams but it hasn't been coming through. Connecting with fire has been spotty. There are big things in the future and I've found it challenging to prepare for them without deeper connection to the spiritual.

I am very uncomfortable with divination in general and oracles in particular. I think you should be very careful asking the universe a question: you might get an answer. Generally I've found it is far better to live in the moment than to be constrained by an answered question.

But I was stuck. So, when an oracle was offered at Friday ritual, i took advantage. I learned that to hear the spiritual easily, I needed to finish healing my own spirit from the pain of the last year. I'll admit that the “well duh” gong sounding with that realization was kind of loud and I’m sort of surprised that I didn’t hear it sooner. On the other hand, It’s easy to hope and believe that we’ve finished our healing: the healing is long and hard, and it’s disappointing to admit to ourselves that there is more ahead.

Further, the oracle suggested that I couldn’t always be driving my own work. I didn’t always need to be the one doing; I needed to trust in my community—I needed to be taken care of.

Saturday

When I attended my first hook suspension I admired the courage of those who went through the ordeal. Back then, I thought it would be unlikely that I would need an experience so intensely physical . My trials seemed to involve finding the courage to be open and honest, not the physical ordeal that the primal rituals are best known for.

Yet when I heard that there would be hook suspensions Saturday, I immediately began to wonder whether it was my time. I needed something powerful enough to knock down the walls I built around my spirit. I needed something powerful enough that I could surrender to the community; something I could not face without letting go and trusting. Over the past couple of years I’ve been getting some strong messages of welcome and belonging from the tribe. I wanted a way of saying “I hear you; in my brain, breath, bone and blood I know that this is my fire.” Surrendering to the hooks would do all that.

Yet this would be a big step for me. I’ve only been suspended once; a very mild experience offered around the fire a couple years ago. I’ve only had one piercing scene before: I received a few 24-gauge needles on my front. A hook suspension is not really comparable to either of those. I had no comparison. I was jumping into the ocean; I knew it was bigger than my bath tub. I suspected I might need something that big.

So I meditated. By the time I was ready to go down to the fire I was reasonably sure that I needed hooks. The community considered my request and I was given a slot.

I submerge myself in the ritual. The ritual, the fire are beautiful. I dance and hold space. I am calm; I made my decision. I let go more and more. I lose track of where I am; I float between the fire and the drums. I lose track of the orientation of the circle: as some of the drummers moved, I lost track of which end was the drum pit and where in the circle I was. That’s only happened once before. The fire is hot. I continue to drift.

The Hooks Go In

I am called over to get ready. I lay on the table and the first hook goes in. It hurts; I don’t know that I could have taken it two years ago. Now, it is a pain I can breathe through. That first hook settles easily. Three breaths later, the second hook goes in. That hurts! It hurts a lot. And it does not stop hurting.

A couple minutes later it has sort of settled and I prepare to try and sit up. D is there to rig me. We’ve been together since the Temple of Flame. His voice, calmly and carefully walking someone through a scene that was very close to their limits, is one of the memories that typifies the strength of our tribe. I trust no one greater for this sort of experience.

I sit up and turned to my left. Holey fuck! That hurt a lot. As I moved, both hooks, but especially the left really start to hurt. Waves of dizziness roll through me. Wow, that hurts, I think. Fuck, I'm going to have to stand up, walk over to the rigging station, and then things are going to get a whole lot more intense. Hey, body, are we up for that? My body responds viscerally.

“Sam, you passed out for a bit.” Yeah, seems about right. Discontinuity in my sense of time. I don’t know how I got into this position. Hmm, soon someone is going to want to put a bunch of large meat hooks in my back. I’m already hurting. I don’t know if I can take that.

“Are you with us?”

“Yes. I’m safe.” I realize it’s true. There are the drums, I’m floating in their energy. I’m surrounded by my tribe. I am absolutely safe. I realize that at no point in this entire experience have I felt any significant fear.

Stop and think about that for a moment. I’m going from the experience of tiny needles and a simple rope suspension to hooks and possibly a suspension. I’m not afraid. I’m not even afraid when my body seems to be telling me that I’m asking too much of it. I’ve had hours to consider this upcoming experience and all I felt was nervousness.

And let me tell you that I’m not immune to fear. I know the mind-crippling fear that locks down your body. Again and again I have challenged my fear around the fire.

But for me, this time around the fire is about surrendering to trust, not fighting fear. We’ve built a spiritual container strong enough that I can face an experience this intense without fear. I know I’ll be safe. And as my body relaxes there on that table, even as the scene takes a turn for the unexpected, the trust and acceptance of my tribe fills me.

The medic tries to reassure me that “Yes, you are safe.” She’s funny. The safety and trust are so intrinsic that her reassurance is meaningless. I’m letting her know that I’m in my scene, in a good place, and I’ve returned from passing out to a very wonderful sub space.

I fade in and out a bit more. Eventually, I regain enough verbal acuity to ask for help. “I’m not sure if I can take going up. Standing up and walking to the rigging station seems like it’s going to be a lot. How should we make that decision?”

“O, I don’t think going up tonight would be a good idea.” She goes on. She then tries to reassure me that I can try and go up some other time; I did what I could that evening. I laugh and explain. Flying was not my desire. I wanted to release my spirit to the cosmos. I wanted to take down the walls. I wanted to surrender to tribe. Flying was only a tool. All that has happened without that tool. I got the ordeal I needed. The ritual was already a success, and I was happy to rely on her recommendation. If flying is in the cards some day, so be it, but that shall be a ritual for its own reasons, not a completion of this.

The hooks were removed and I made a few rounds around the fire to celebrate trust and surrender.

Conclusions

I am honored to be part of our community. I am honored to help bring people to the fire, to provide encouragement, and to provide care when needed. There are many who strive for flash or show around the fire. That was not my role, not even this time. I’m there to find the simplest path to where I’m going and to help everyone believe that this is their fire. I’m there to help people see that the fire is for them listening to the drums and watching from the side with intent. I’m there to say that the fire is for those of us giving our energy to the dance and holding space no matter our level of skill or flash. Saturday I was there to say that the fire, the ritual is ours, even when we face the unexpected. So long as we bring what openness we can, so long as we bring our intent, this is our fire.

Give Thanks!

Normally, when we talk about consent, something has gone wrong. Emotions are high, and it is hard to find the right answer.

I have an excellent opportunity to explore a consent discussion when everything worked out in the end. I hope that you will join me in exploring and learning from this issue in a situation where we have a bit more room to speak without our voices being drowned by the feelings of those we would like to communicate with. Even though this is a situation where things worked out, and we have a bit more room, real people and real feelings are involved. I ask for your respect as I offer mine.

The Scene

I've always wanted to try ear plugs in a scene. Because I'm blind I was thinking that it might offer some of the same vulnerability that a blindfold offers someone else. We experimented with this a bit in one of the Fires of Venus rituals, but the ritual facilitator working with me was far too conservative for me to get a good understanding of the experience.

I was working with someone I trusted and I decided to go for that. We set up a sensation scene combining flogging, other forms of impact, sensation play, tickling and other elements. It was sexy, although ended up not having much of a sexual component, besides some genital contact. We were working to keep me fully in my body, fully in the moment. We were working to play with vulnerability in a safe space.

I wore earplugs that significantly dampened sound. There was reasonably loud music playing. I could hear talking and often make out words, but my top said he planned not to talk at all during the scene. I could not hear people moving around me. When they were not touching me, they almost completely disappeared from my awareness.

The scene was great. Some parts were intense, but mostly I flowed from one moment to the next, unable to predict what was going on. One surprise stood out above all others. At some point in the scene, I realized that there were more than two hands on me and more going on than one person could account for. My top had invited others to join our scene. This was not negotiated.

Perspective 1

He knew he was taking a risk. But we had talked about the work I've done on boundaries. He's watched me process and explore what I'm comfortable with. He didn't think he could create the scene he was looking for if I was expecting multiple participants. The surprise on that element was a necessary element of the scene in his mind.

we had played before and he had a good idea of how I approach BDSM. I think he's aware that I had done work before in which new people joined a scene and probably even my Beltane class where anyone who wants to can join a scene.

He thought there was some chance I would red out, but thought the risk was acceptable.

He warned the other participants that he had not negotiated pulling others into the scene. He talked a little about our parameters, and worked to make sure my limits were respected as the scene progressed. There were a couple of points where he delegated managing the scene to someone he trusted so he could go read someone new into the scene. So there were times when he was not able to be in a position to intervene if something went wrong, but during those times someone he trusted a lot was there.

Perspective 2

There were people punching, hitting, flogging and whipping me. There were people playing with my cock and rubbing against me. There were people hurting me who I had not given permission to do so. I was in a more vulnerable position than most of my previous BDSM activity. The person I trusted to keep me safe had invited these people to use and hurt me without my consent.

Perspective 3

Before the scene started I walked away to grab some toys. Before I left, I almost said that it would be OK for the top to invite others into the scene if that made sense. However, I felt the negotiations had been long enough and I didn't want them to devolve into a series of checkboxes that didn't matter for the scene we were having. If I actually had opened my mouth and said those true words, we wouldn't be discussing consent now. I would have given sufficient consent for what happened had I been asked or thought it was valuable to do so.

But I did not say those words.

None of these perspectives is a complete view of the situation. They all contributed. The me that was OK with things because I would have consented if asked was not an extension or refinement of the me assaulted with un-negotiated activity. I was a superposition of both. Some significant part of the scene was spent with me working trying to figure out if I was OK. Calling red or yellow didn't seem like it would have helped for a reason I could not articulate at the time. Now I can look back and understand that the damage—if there were any—was not in the inviting others into the scene, but in doing that without negotiation. Using a safe word would have been the right response if I had not been comfortable with others involved in the scene. I elected to defer my reaction to the decision to invite them and to discuss with my top after the scene concluded.

Some Thoughts

• It sounds like my top believed that the worst that was likely was that I would red out on the scene and be angry for a while. I think the risk was much greater: perspective two is very important. If I had been uncomfortable with others in the scene, the violation would have been acute. It would have been worse than those same people coming up and randomly hitting or flogging me without warning. I trusted him to keep me safe according to my definition of safety.

• It’s absolutely true that I’ve done a lot of work with scenes where others joined the scene in the middle. I even taught a Beltane class where the goal of the class was to allow people to walk in and get some experience being a top. For that class I worked with a safety monitor I trusted specifically in that situation. We had a long negotiation before the first time we did that. Also, I knew each person as they joined in and knew what they planned to do before they did it.

• As it was, I spent a significant chunk of the scene trying to process what was going on. I needed to find a way to regain my own power in order to consider whether I wanted to surrender from a position of strength. If I could not find a way to do that, I would have walked away feeling violated. Eventually I realized that I did have power: I could go invoke the event’s incident process and ultimately if I chose press charges. (I have some idea that victims are not often treated well in such processes. The important thing is that I needed to feel I had power and at that moment I was able to believe in those processes.) Ultimately the power I found got me to a place where I could feel safe enough to decide whether I wanted to surrender willingly. Even so I wasn’t sure that I didn’t need to involve the incident response team until after discussing things with my top at the end of the scene.

• Implied consent is very much a thing. We didn’t negotiate all that happened in the scene, and if we’d had to, it would have destroyed the scene.

• Affirmative consent is also very much a thing. We’ve decided that for very good reasons, “She didn’t say no,” isn’t an acceptable answer to much of anything. The interesting question here is how can we constructively approach situations where one party believes that negotiations brought things into a space where implied consent is appropriate and another is hurt by that.

• I did not speak up during the scene. Because of the nature of the scene, my top did not check in on me. I consider myself strong in being able to defend boundaries and speak my mind. I think it’s very interesting that when I was unsure that my trust was betrayed, I did not immediately stop and talk about it. I needed to find my own inner strength first, even if that meant processing during the scene itself. I think I would have acted differently had the question been about whether I was comfortable with others joining the scene rather than a question of comfort with my top jumping to that conclusion.

• Even when these situations are all resolved and everyone leaves feeling understood and heard, they are messy. I’m nervous that my top for the scene will read something here and it will impact our friendship. I’m worried that there will be fall-out when others involved in the scene learn what happened. I spent hours talking to my fiancee about her strong reaction to this, discussing her disappointment and whether I was living up to the ideal of consent that I had introduced her to as our relationship started. I’m worried that people will be less willing to have fun scenes with me.

After

After the scene, we had a wonderful discussion where I brought up most of these concerns. I felt understood and heard.

I listened to what he had done to try and balance the risk and look out for my safety. I heard his desire for fun exciting scenes and the importance of surprise in those scenes. I shared my excitement for that desire. We hugged and used the experience to build connection and trust.

Perspective 4

You might dismiss this all and say “So negotiate that explicitly.” We have for the future, both about the specific issue of pulling others into the scene and my desire that we be more explicit about such things in future negotiations.

These mistakes are easy. I’ve been in the position of someone who guessed wrong. In my case, I misunderstood what had been negotiated. I thought I had permission to bring an element into a scene and I did not. Someone I cared about got hurt.

Mistakes are easy to make even when we try our best. The pain is no less real for our best efforts to avoid it.

Concluding thoughts

What do we do? We want to create a culture where people have the safety we need. We want to create a culture where we value consent. We want to create a culture where we have the freedom to experiment and to enjoy the unexpected. We want to face our consequences, but we want mistakes to be something that we can learn from rather than so big that they destroy us and the communities on which we rely.

Part of the answer is that remembering that sometimes healing and compassion are the right answer. We don’t want to tolerate abuse, but we do want to grow people and help them see how their best efforts can be improved.

Help me create a place where we feel safer on both sides. Help me create a community where the risk that my consent is violated is low and where I can get the help I need. On the other side, help me create a community where when I try my best and make a mistake I can grow from that mistake rather than facing ridicule and rejection. How do we do that?