Last week I spoke at a kink workshop called the ‘Social Etiquette Discussion Panel’. The inspiration for this event stemmed from a conversation I had with HallowsEve and Tonbi a few months back; the general theme of which was “I wish someone had told me these things when I started out.”
When I first started to explore this kink thing, the path I took from Wide-Eyed-Newbie to Hardened-Old-Shrew was of the ‘baptism of fire’ variety. I’ve ended up in a good place, but there are times when I resent that the innocent wonder I once had for BDSM was stolen so quickly. Which is not to say that it is no longer magical for me, but I do slightly envy those who have no experience, because it means they are about to discover something amazing.
(Similar to, say, a person who has not yet heard a Radiohead album. Although Radiohead has brought me many, many, many, MANY hours of blissful enjoyment, nothing can quite replace the first time I heard Kid A, which redefined music for me, and blew my freakin’ brain).
Through Under 30s, I meet a lot of young people who are stepping into the BDSM scene for the first time, and who are somewhat ashamed of their innocence. Which is unnecessary – there’s no shame in being new and clueless. It’s okay to admit that you wouldn’t know a sjambok from a violet wand. What’s annoying are people who try to act as if they’ve been around the block a hundred times, when in reality all they’ve done is watched Secretary furtively that time their flatmate was out.
As a general rule, established members of the scene seem happy to bitch about others if they’ve broken the unwritten code of social ethics, but it’s a bit unfair to criticise if they themselves haven’t made an effort to improve communication. The Social Etiquette Workshop was about breaking down this vague wall of silence, and creating an environment in which people could feel comfortable enough to discuss ideas.
My main contributions were as follows:
People in the BDSM scene are people.
When I was twenty years old, I literally had to be dragged to my first munch. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was absolutely terrified. But all that happened was I met a bunch of polite, intelligent people, who welcomed me and were genuinely interested in what I had to say. I was amazed.
I had the same experience (of relief and disbelief) at the first play party I ever went to. Imagine my surprise when, instead of flames or severed limbs, the only things that came out of the mouths of the other guests were words, many of them friendly.
Now it amuses me how, every time I shepherd a new member into Under 30s, they all say the same thing: “wow, I didn’t expect you all to be so… normal?”
Know how to say ‘no’.
Even to this very day I suck at saying no. I tend to say yes for the sake of pleasing others or to avoid making a fuss, even when this means I have to go very far out of my way to follow through with whatever I’ve agreed to. But the thing is, you’re far, far better off turning someone down (if they’re asking to play with you, for example) than to freak out when you find yourself in a situation you can’t handle.
Because I know how shocking I am at saying this simple, monosyllabic word, I’ve found that it helps to go to public events with a friend who can say no on my behalf.
Even doms need to know how to say it. I’ve heard stories about doms who have agreed to something that they weren’t comfortable with, just because they didn’t want to lose face, or because they wanted to make their sub happy.
Everyone has a right to say no – everyone!
Sexuality is fluid.
I used to have very rigid ideas about labels, and thought that your only kinky options were dom or sub. I really believed that people were born a certain way and could never change. I’ve since discovered that the term ‘switch’ is completely valid. (It does not mean a person is indecisive or confused!)
Now I know that there are so many different labels and definitions out there, and that people can identify as all of them, or none. It can change depending on your headspace, who you’re playing with, whether you’re playing in public or in private, etc.
Even though ‘submissive’ is still how I choose to describe myself, it’s not totally correct. I top occasionally, and I’ve also learned that ‘bottom’ is a much more accurate way of describing the role I play during public scenes. (For me, submission is so much more than simply receiving a beating. It’s an intensely emotional thing; the physical act of receiving pain/sensation is somewhat incidental. It also has a lot to do with love, service, pride, and humiliation. Simply bending over at a play party and letting someone have their way with my arse does not quite qualify as submission).
In addition to this, my sexual tastes have evolved and changed greatly, which has surprised me. Things that once terrified or disgusted me have become great loves. Be aware of the hubris inherent in saying something like: “oh, I’ll never understand how anyone could find (INSERT FREAKY KINK THING) appealing.” You’d only be asking for trouble. Trust me.
You don’t have to assume a role to interact with people at public events.
It took me a long time to realise that I didn’t have to be Lou the Submissive when I met people at parties – I could just be Lou.
I also wish someone had told me that it’s perfectly okay to go to a kink party and NOT play. When I ran the Sexy Freaks parties, the number one question I got asked by first-timers was “is it okay just to watch?”. Not only is it okay, but at these sorts of things there are people who are happy to hog the spotlight, and revel in the fact they’ve got an audience. Strangely enough, at Sexy Freaks, this person generally turned out to be me.
If you do play, be prepared for the possibility of a come-down.
BDSM brings up a lot of intense stuff. Some strange, surprising and sometimes difficult reactions and emotions can escape you – laughter, tears, elation, depression. It’s always wonderful to be able to channel these things and let them out, but it can also be incredibly draining.
This is why it’s so important to have friends in the scene, so you’ve got people you can talk to, and who will understand. If you’re feeling kind of bummed because you had your arse caned to a bloody pulp last Friday night, but that the bruises are not nearly as colourful as you hoped they would be, you might find that your vanilla friends are not satisfactorily sympathetic.
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There are so many more points I can add to this, such as don’t be a dick, and use condoms. But this post is by no means intended to be a definitive guide. It’s just a list of things I wish I’d been told when I started out.
By the way, I’m still learning. We all are.