First reaction to Daniel Bergner’s “The Other Side of Desire”

This post is a bit of teaser — I’ll own up to that at the start. I’m not going to review Daniel Bergner’s new book The Other Side of Desire yet … because I will be interviewing the man himself on this coming Thursday, before his 7PM reading at the Leather Archives and Museum. I’ll post that interview, along with my commentary and book review, next week. Exciting!

So if I’m not going to talk about my first reaction to reading the book, what am I talking about?

The Other Side of Desire has been generating a huge amount of buzz, and not just for sexuality geeks. I first heard about it when one of my sexuality geek friends grabbed me and said, “You have to read this ‘New York Times’ article.” We went through the whole thing with much commentary, then rushed to the computer to read excerpts from Mr. Bergner’s book.

I wasn’t sure how to read Daniel Bergner — the writer himself, that is, rather than his material. What does it mean that he compares profiling kinky people to investigating a Louisiana prison, or covering war in Sierra Leone? * What does it mean that he characterizes — or at least, has been reported as characterizing — the greatest benefit of feeling comfortable talking about sex as good cocktail party conversation? ** What does it mean that one of the editorial reviews chosen for the back of his book describes his subjects as “oddly winning”? ***

I mean … seriously? How much was he kidding about the party conversation thing? Did he choose that review himself, and did he himself consider his subjects “oddly winning” — as if it’s such a great big insight that fetishists can be nice people? Was Mr. Bergner making these statements because he was trying to make The Other Side of Desire more accessible to a wide, potentially intolerant audience … or because he, himself, sees conversations with sexual fetishists as analogous to reporting on a war zone in a foreign country?

I didn’t know. I knew already that I wanted to talk to him and hear his perspective, but I had no obvious channels to do so.

A little while later, someone emailed me the “Times” Magazine review of Mr. Bergner’s book. That review, by Lori Gottlieb, shifted me from slight unease to actual irritation — specifically, this quotation:

The only story about a woman — a celebrated clothing designer and sadist who’s in a conventional marriage — is also unfortunately the weakest. To be fair, Bergner doesn’t have a lot to work with. His subject, a narcissist who enjoys torturing and humiliating her underlings, is inherently unsympathetic. … While his other subjects struggle mightily with their unconventional cravings, the Baroness, as her victims call her, denies any inner conflict. In her mind, she’s happy, her victims are grateful, and she is their “beacon.”

Wait a minute, I thought. Why is Gottlieb describing the Baroness’s BDSM partners as “victims”, and what does this imply about how Daniel Bergner described the Baroness and her activities? Of course, it’s worth noting that at the article’s beginning, Gottlieb mentions that the one time a partner asked her for anything remotely untraditional in bed (specifically, he asked her to handcuff him), she flipped out and fled home to tell all her friends “what a freak this guy turned out to be”. (Really — that’s an actual quotation from her article.) I guess Lori Gottlieb has trouble understanding that it might be a good thing for a kinkster to feel sexually unashamed. For her, it’s only acceptable for people to explore their fetishes as long as they feel really horrible about it. Shame is what matters to Gottlieb, not consent. In fact, Gottlieb seems to have much more of a problem with the Baroness than she does with Roy — another subject of the book and a convicted child molester. ****

But even though her perspective is obviously kink-phobic, Gottlieb’s words gave me more questions. What was Daniel Bergner saying? I’d read excerpts from his book posted online; I knew I’d have to read more. Were his words being twisted, was I being too harsh in my assessment? What were his goals in writing this book?

I finally got my chance when I heard about the Leather Archives event. Daniel Bergner was going to be in Chicago, and he’d chosen to do his reading at the BDSM museum! Thrilled, I redoubled my efforts to get in touch. This culminated with me sending Bergner’s publicist an email introducing myself, describing my activist work and then holding my breath. Was this author really all about communicating with us “oddly winning” fetishists … or was this, for him, merely about making good conversation at parties? He’s been featured by the “New York Times” and NPR; I knew he had no reason to talk to me unless he really wants to engage with the BDSM community.

So it counts for a lot, I think, that Daniel Bergner agreed to be interviewed by lil ole me. And as I slowly cover my copy of The Other Side of Desire with underlines and margin notes, I find myself — yes, bothered by aspects of this book, but somewhat heartened as well. I’ll withhold complete judgment until I’ve actually spoken to Mr. Bergner; I’m definitely looking forward to it.

We come to the cliffhanger: watch this space ….

(And if you’re not in Chicago, check out the author’s site to see whether you might be able to catch him in your city.)

* “What,” the people I write about often ask, “are you doing here with me?” I heard the question in Angola Prison, Louisiana’s maximum security penitentiary, where I followed the lives of men sentenced to stay locked up until their deaths, with no chance of parole. I heard it in Sierra Leone, in West Africa, where I attached myself to missionaries and mercenaries and child soldiers amid the most brutal war in recent memory. And I heard it as a sought the stories — of eros, obsession, anarchy, love — that fill The Other Side of Desire. (from the book’s Introduction)

** “Well, it definitely deepened my sense of the power of the erotic,” he said. “And if I was always at least fairly comfortable talking about sex, now I’m very comfortable. That in itself has led to something good. It’s good for cocktail party conversation.” (from the “Times” article)

*** See the cover and read excerpts by clicking here.

**** And let’s not forget that to some people, Gottlieb comes across as a veritable “libertine”. Christ.

Early Folsom flier, Instigator card and awesome condom instructions

My latest Fun Finds ™ * while volunteering up at your friendly neighborhood BDSM museum, the Leather Archives:

1) Instructions on how to put on a condom, from Scat Dancer Brand Rubbers. These were pretty run-of-the-mill until step 4:

4. do not reuse. and for god’s sake men, know your limit.

2) Cards for “The Instigator” (what a great name):

The front. I think I may adopt “Low Morals, High Standards” as my new motto.

The back. I’m not sure what’s going on.

3) The cover of a 1984 pamphlet for Folsom Street Fair, the biggest BDSM festival in the world:

I think the sewer monster is my favorite part …. “Now, nothing can stop me” might be a better motto, now that I think about it.

* I’m not really trademarking that, but maybe I should.

Latest sex-positive links, publications and Chicago events

Lots to report! Four things:

Firstly: fabulous poly podcaster Cunning Minx interviewed me for her latest podcast! Also on the podcast are her thoughts on “Sex Positive”, the last documentary we screened at Sex+++. Thanks Minx!

Secondly: Richard Berkowitz, the sex education activist profiled in aforementioned documentary “Sex Positive”, left a great comment on my quick semi-review of the film. He and I corresponded briefly, and I will be interviewing him soon — watch this space for more on that! Also, it turns out that you can order his book Stayin’ Alive: The Invention of Safe Sex through his website.

Thirdly: Sugasm #159!

The best of this week’s sex blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants.

This Week’s Picks
+The Annual Anti-Valentine’s Day Posting: 2009 Edition “Ahh, Valentine’s Day. Sigh.”
+ Exposed “We talk a lot about putting me on display, and it was even more intense in reality as it has been in fantasy.”
+ Yes “At the edge of the precipice, my nerves rippling with electricity, i tumbled down into you”

Sugasm Editor
+ Sex Work And Compassion: A Call From Baghdad

Editor’s Choice
+ Stairwell

BDSM & Fetish
+ 25 Things, the Kinky Way
+ The Domme Experiment — The Result
+ Firsts, part 2
+ Permission
+ Single Minded Passion
+ My post, “There is no ’should’” and the sex-positive “agenda”

+ More Sugasm
+ Join the Sugasm
+ See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Fourthly: Last but not least, let’s talk about some upcoming Chicago sex-positive events! All events are totally free and open to the public unless otherwise noted.

+ Thursday February 19, 12 noon: Yes Means Yes! sex-positive anthology discussion at Hull-House Museum. Includes Hazel/Cedar Troost, amazing local trans activist.

+ Thursday February 19, 7.30 PM: Yes Means Yes! sex-positive anthology discussion at Women and Children First. Includes Hazel/Cedar Troost, amazing local trans activist.

+ Tuesday February 24, 7 PM: “When Two Won’t Do” documentary about consensual non-monogamy at Sex+++

+ Thursday February 26, 3 PM: Leadership in the Bedroom: Communicating What You Want and Don’t Want sexual communication workshop with Clarisse Thorn at UIC (312.413.2120 for more information)

+ Thursday February 26, 7 PM: The Other Side of Desire fetish and sexuality book reading with Daniel Bergner at the Leather Archives and Museum. I’m going to be interviewing Daniel Bergner soon — watch this space!

+ Thursday February 26, 7.30 PM: Bound to Struggle kink and radical politics zine discussion at Women and Children First. Simon Strikeback, the zine editor, is really great and also helps run Threat Level Queer Shorts.

+ Friday February 27, 12 noon: Sex education history discussion at Hull-House Museum

+ Tuesday March 3, 7.30 PM: Cheap Sex workshop at Early to Bed — $15, or $10 for students and low-income

+ Tuesday March 3, 7.30 PM: “The Last Days of Desmond ‘Nani’ Reese” post-apocalyptic stripper play at Steppenwolf — $20 with code “5103″

+ Wednesday March 4, 6 PM: Women on Wednesdays meet-up features Babes with Blades at Center on Halsted — $10, women only

+ Friday March 6, evening: Fornication-themed party to benefit the Sex Workers Outreach Project at the Wild Pug — $5-10 suggested donation. Includes awesome sex worker and blogger Aspasia.

+ Tuesday March 10, 7 PM: “BDSM: It’s Not What You Think!” and other short S&M documentaries at Sex+++

+ Saturday March 14, 4 PM: Newcomer’s Social relaxed gathering at BDSM club Galleria Domain Two — 21+ only.

Coming out BDSM: upsides and downsides

A lot of us kinksters use vocabulary similar to the kind of thing people are accustomed to hearing from LGBTQ folks. “Coming out” is a great example of this: a lot of BDSM people struggle with the question of whether to come out to our employers, our friends, our parents … all the people we love. And BDSM is stigmatized and frowned upon enough that most kinksters never come out.

Some professional fields are more BDSM-friendly: for instance, kinksters who work in computer science frequently don’t have any problem with coworkers knowing about their sexual identities. Some fields are less BDSM-friendly: schoolteachers who are into BDSM have to be incredibly careful. Likewise, some subcultures are more BDSM-friendly: kinksters in the goth subculture, for instance, don’t tend to have any problems within that subculture. But again, some subcultures are less BDSM-friendly: not just the obvious ones like religious evangelicals … there are also some feminist groups that are very intolerant of BDSM, and many liberal groups still exhibit prejudices.

When I came into my BDSM identity, it was a very sudden realization for me, and my circumstances effectively outed me to most of my friends. (It’s a long story.) I think that this was ultimately a positive thing, in my case — for the most part, my friends were totally cool about it, and I was able to talk to some of them about the panic and horror and shame I was feeling. (“I’m so screwed up! I’m such a bad feminist!” … that about sums up how I felt.) It was still really hard for me to deal with it, but thank God I didn’t have to do so in strict secrecy. (I really like hearing people’s personal stories of how they got into BDSM, by the way, so if you’ve got any — leave a comment, or send them my way by email!)

Later, I came out to my parents, and I was terrified when I did it … but I’m lucky: they were both really awesome and supportive about it. As for my boss … well, my boss likes me a lot, but I’m not sure his affection would survive if he learned that I’m such a sexual deviant. He might be okay with it, but he also might be horrified and fire me. I’ve never told him and I don’t plan to.

As I’ve gotten into BDSM outreach, I’ve become a weird kind of BDSM “public figure” among my vanilla friends. A lot of them already knew I was into it, but now pretty much all of them do, because it’s such a huge part of my life that I can’t have a conversation about what I’m working on without BDSM coming up.

There are some obvious pros and cons here. For instance: I feel happy that I can talk honestly about my relationships and my work with my friends, and yet I live in fear that my boss is going to find out and hate me! But there’s one big Pro and one big Con that I want to talk about today.

1) Pro: I’m available for comment! People with their own BDSM desires, who know me or have heard about me, have a resource they wouldn’t otherwise have.

Multiple people I know from my everyday life have taken me aside — usually in very quiet, furtive, ashamed ways — and asked for BDSM advice. Some of them have an idea what they’re asking about: they say straightforward things like, “I might want to try some BDSM. Where can I learn more?” Others are more confused. They ask roundabout, contradictory questions or lapse into pauses.

A female friend of mine asked me out to dinner a few months ago, soon after the first time I gave my BDSM Overview presentation to a bunch of vanilla folks I know. She started by saying that she didn’t really know what was going on, but that she’d always had these crazy violent dreams. She said she wasn’t sure what she wanted but that she was scared to ask, sometimes even scared to think about it. She said that was afraid of what this meant about being a feminist, and that was when I spotted the tears in her eyes.

It was heartbreaking to see how much she was hurting, but it was empowering, too. I saw so much of myself in her, and I realized how much I was helping her just by listening … and how much more I could help her by sharing knowledge and experience. I immediately told her that she wasn’t betraying the feminist movement, and I explained how I’d had feelings along those lines. We talked for hours and afterwards I sent her my own coming-out story, as well as a few basic BDSM book references. I explained how the BDSM community functions and how she can attend BDSM meetups and discussion groups. *

(I’ve thought about publishing my coming out story. It’s all written up, and I’ve received some great feedback on it from both kinkster friends and “normal” friends. In particular, I’ve heard from BDSM people — some of them people who are just learning about BDSM from me — about how helpful it was to read about my own process. I’ll be honest, though: I’m scared about publishing, because my story is so personal that even publishing it under my scene name — Clarisse — feels like I’m greatly exposing myself and my inner world.

The idea of publishing it is also complicated by the fact that I’d really want to publish the story in a vanilla venue: that is, a magazine or webzine or other place that’s not devoted to BDSM material. It would be relatively easy for me to find a BDSM-related venue for my coming-out story, but I think it’s important for mainstream society to be hearing these stories … partly because it will forward the cause of BDSM tolerance … and partly because scared or repressed or latent kinksters are more likely to read my story if it’s in a vanilla venue, and they’re the ones who can benefit most from that kind of encouragement and insight. But what kind of mainstream venue is going to publish a BDSM coming-out story?)

It has really inspired me to know that there are people out there who are having a terribly hard time dealing with their sexuality because of all the stigma against BDSM — and I’m helping just by being public and available to talk.

2) Con: I am exoticized and othered. People — sometimes even my friends — make stereotypical assumptions about me, or harass me in minor but frustrating ways.

I remember once that I told someone in the BDSM community that I’d come out to most of my friends already, and he said, “Did people start hitting on you more?” I couldn’t help laughing because it’s so true — it’s such a known effect! For some reason, there are lots of vanilla guys out there who think that a BDSM girl is just the hottest thing … I mean person … ever. I don’t know why that is, but I am here to tell you that the fact that I’m into BDSM does not mean I’m some guy’s hot sex-crazy nympho dreamgirl.

I’m just another person, you know? I like sex, but sometimes I don’t want to have sex; sometimes I don’t even want to do BDSM, amazingly enough. I like going out to dinner and getting chocolate from my lovers, and watching good movies together. An evening reading in my room, or hanging out casually with my friends, sounds just as good as an evening of hot BDSM sex. (Well, okay, maybe not quite as good. But really good.)

Plus, news flash: if you’re a vanilla guy, I’m not interested. You’re probably not into what I’m into. And no, I don’t feel like explaining exactly what I like to you. If you want to know about BDSM, I can recommend some books. If you want to know about me, you can become friends with me … just keep in mind that “being friends” means “having fun hanging out, maybe talking about science fiction or other interests we might share”, rather than “asking me questions about my sex life all the time”.

Some people seem to think it’s okay to openly speculate about my sex life or even ask me really invasive, personal questions, just because I’m into BDSM. I know people who comment about my sexuality at every opportunity … and I mean every opportunity. I’ll stub my toe and they’ll say, “Is that good pain or bad pain?” and leer. Or I’ll ask them not to do something and they’ll say, “Ohh, sorry,” throw up their hands in mock surrender, “I guess you’ll just have to beat me up.” This wouldn’t be annoying if it happened every once in a while … and hey, I make my own jokes about BDSM. But when a person literally mentions my sexuality multiple times every time they see me, and it’s always totally out of the blue … it starts feeling like I’m some exotic creature behind glass in a zoo. They wouldn’t do it to someone else; I know, because a lot of them didn’t do it to me before they knew I’m into BDSM.

I recognize that people who act this way are a blessing, compared to the people who think I’m a psycho in need of therapy … or the people who think BDSM people really ought to just go ahead and kill ourselves. I know it could be a lot worse, and I’m lucky it’s not. I just wish more people would be more sensitive, and would think about the stereotypes they’re applying to BDSM people.

It’s worse when people start judging the “reasons” they think I’m into BDSM. I’ve heard people suggest that I only talk about BDSM because it gets attention, or because I want to seem like everyone’s fantasy sex-crazy nympho dreamgirl.

I’m not into BDSM because I want to appear edgy or dangerous or adventurous or sexy or scary. I’m into BDSM because that’s how I express my sexuality. That’s it. That’s all. I didn’t choose it and I don’t know why I am this way … but I am. I’m certainly not complaining … but I can’t help it.

I think that there are people who get into BDSM just because they’re curious and want to try new things, not necessarily because BDSM is a huge part of their identity … and there’s nothing wrong with that! I see these people as similar to — say — people who identify as straight but are totally willing to make out with the same sex. Personally, I’m cool with the fact that such people exist; as long as they’re having fun, more power to them. But I’m not like that. BDSM is an undeniable, overwhelming, central facet of my sexual identity. For me, telling me that I’m into BDSM just because I “want attention”, or because I’m “just in a phase” or “like experimenting”, or because I’m “dramatic” or “attracted to danger” … that’s like telling a gay person that she has sex with girls just because she “wants attention”, etc.

So that’s what I don’t like about being partly out: the way people judge me for my sexuality. But hey, that’s why I’m doing BDSM outreach in the first place, right? — because that’s the only way we’ll ever get away from these assumptions and stereotypes.

* Hey Chicago people: if you think you might want to explore BDSM and you’re between the ages of 18 and 35, your best resource is The Next Generation Chicago. Join the mailing list — it’s right there on the webpage. And if you are older, don’t fret! There are groups for you too, including The Lost Generation. You can learn more about meetups, groups, and so on by looking at the Chicago Pansexual BDSM Calendar.

Maybe I know why so many people don’t get tested ….

I get tested last week, and I re-noticed one thing about my psychology that always comes up when I get tested: I got really anxious about it.

It’s weird. I try to get tested about once a year or so, and for most of the year, I don’t worry at all about my status. But then — during the time that elapses between getting the test and receiving the results — I start freaking out. I get more and more worried. I start thinking about the conversations I’ll need to have with recent partners if I’ve got a sexually transmitted infection. I start thinking about all the life changes I’ll need to make if I’m HIV-positive. Only when I receive the results do I calm down!

I do this even when I’m in a situation that makes me almost totally positive that I’m clean. For instance, even if I’ve continuously been in the same monogamous relationship with a partner I’m sure is faithful since my last test … I still worry.

I don’t think I’m incredibly neurotic, or anything like that (or at least, no more neurotic than the next person). I do suspect that this highlights something about how people think that can help explain why people don’t get tested.

That is: Just considering scary possibilities is, well, scary. Just putting ourselves in a position to learn something bad makes us fear that we’ll learn something bad. It’s much more psychologically difficult to allow ourselves to imagine a terrifying negative possibility, than it is to simply ignore that possibility entirely.

I’m not sure how to work against this problem. Providing free and easy testing is good, but I think it’s probably best if we find ways to put testing out in the open so that people can’t conveniently forget it. I know that when people set up free testing stations at high-traffic events, those stations get lots of visitors. So it’s not that people are anti-testing, exactly. And most people I know admit that getting tested is important, when it comes up in conversation! So it’s not that people don’t think it’s important. People are busy, of course — that’s the enemy of all preventive healthcare, from working out to testing: it’s simply hard to make time.

But I really think it’s more that people don’t like putting ourselves in a position to feel anxious. If we’re directly reminded of an issue (e.g. by an in-your-face testing station), then we get tested … otherwise, we prefer not to even think about it. Because then we have to acknowledge the potential consequences.

People should be scared of sexually transmitted infections, of course. So I don’t want to encourage people to feel less anxious. What other action can be taken? I guess … simply keep supporting programs that do out-in-the-open testing is good … not to mention sex education that emphasizes our responsibility for our health and that of our partners, etc.

Sex-positive documentary report #2: “Sex Positive”

edit: 3.23.09 After writing this entry, I got in touch with Richard Berkowitz — star of “Sex Positive” — and arranged an interview. You can read that interview by clicking here! end of edit

Before I report on Daryl Wein’s “Sex Positive” (the second sex-positive film that we showed in my sex-positive documentary film series): a word about discussions. I think we’ve got a lot of potential to create a sex-positive salon that can range beyond our post-film discussion group, and I’d like to capitalize on that. Right now I’ve got two major ideas along these lines, and I welcome input or advice!

1) It would be cool to have a way to meet outside the film series — just to hang out and talk about what we’re all doing, and how we can help each other out with our various sex-positive agendas … or just to hang out and, you know, have fun! (I heard recently that sometimes people have fun that has nothing to do with structured discussion groups, or thinking about gender-related cultural issues. I’m not sure I buy it, but I’ll try anything once.) I’ve been talking to Serpent over at the Sex Workers Outreach Project about trying to create a regular bar night — maybe monthly? One question is what kind of venues would be good for such an event. I’d like people to be able to talk easily, so I wouldn’t necessarily want to have it at a huge nightclub or anything … though that might be all right on an off night, like a Wednesday or something.

later edit We have now implemented a Sex+++ meetup: Chicago Pleasure Salon! It’s every first Tuesday of the month. Check it out! end of edit

I’ve also been plotting with Lisa (our friendly Hull-House Museum coordinator) about having some kind of huge Sex+++ party and fundraiser! We’re thinking summer. Watch this space (or the sex+++ email list) for more news on that.

2) We could create a “sex+++ discussion” email list, and have semi-regular discussion topics (usually film-relevant or Chicago-relevant, but not always). (I don’t want to do this with the email list we already have, because I’m sure that some people on that list don’t actually want to be overwhelmed with email discussion — they just want to know when the films are happening.) Or we could try to find a sex-positive email list that already exists, and then all join that discussion.

… So yeah, if you’ve got suggestions for venues or parties or mailing lists, feel free to send me some ideas. For now, onwards ….

Last night we screened the documentary “Sex Positive”, courtesy of Regent Releasing. I thought it went really well — we had at least 50 people, and again, just about half the audience stayed for the discussion!

Firstly: great film! I was so floored by it that I had to take a few minutes to gather my thoughts before I even could start talking during the discussion group.

“Sex Positive” tells the story of Richard Berkowitz — and how he was one of the first to spread the word about safe sex in America. Berkowitz, a talented writer, started out as a hot-blooded participant in the promiscuous gay bathhouse culture. When AIDS started decimating the gay community, Berkowitz was instrumental in teaching his community (and the world) about safe sex. As it became clear to some medical professionals that sexual promiscuity spread AIDS, Berkowitz tried to tell the world about their findings. But there was a huge backlash against him — because in those days, the promiscuous bathhouse culture was seen by many gay men as a huge part of identifying as gay and sex-positive … and anyone who argued against it, or tried to modify it, was therefore cast by many people as sex-negative.

As someone who grew up in the late eighties and nineties, it’s stunning for me to think about a time when safe sex was considered a sex-negative idea. Everyone in the subcultures I run in takes the idea of safe sex for granted … including just about everyone I’ve ever met in my age group (though maybe we should keep in mind that I was raised in liberal New York). Sure, we aren’t always perfect about practicing safe sex, but we take it for granted that we should be — and we all know exactly where we can go to get information on how to have safe sex. In fact, safe sex messages bombard us so thoroughly that we’re practically bored by them (another point highlighted by the documentary).

This was one of the earlier points that came up during the discussion group — a lot of the younger people in attendance were humbled to realize just how much we owe Richard Berkowitz. (And it was so cool to hear the perspectives of our older attendees, who were having sex through the 70s and 80s and could offer further commentary.) The documentary made it clear that the first safe sex initiatives did not come from the government, or from any well-funded bodies — they came from activists who poured out their hearts and received very little in return. In fact, the film asserts that Berkowitz wrote the very first safe sex pamphlet (it was titled “How To Have Sex In An Epidemic”) on his own typewriter at home — and he struggled to find someone who would print it, even within the gay community. The eventual printer published it only on the condition that certain scary medical theories be removed (no matter how true those theories might be).

In a way, I find Berkowitz’s story inspiring. I grew up in the midst of lots of great safe sex initiatives, so obviously his movement — the safe sex movement — has had a powerful and important effect! But of course, Berkowitz himself is now broke and largely forgotten, and safe sex education is under attack from any number of conservative social forces … as well as the ennui of a generation that doesn’t get just how good we’ve got it. So his story frightens as much as it inspires.

I think that there’s a sweet little pre-packaged idea of activism that it’s easy to fall into, today: you know, the one where you attend all the correct cordoned-off marches, and sign all the petitions, and never sacrifice anything or shock anyone. There’s nothing wrong with doing those things, of course, and there’s lots of things right. But it takes some real willingness to go the distance if you want to have a bigger effect. Yet all your passion and drive won’t protect you or even necessarily work, no matter how true or important your message is.

So, the film raises personal questions about how important certain messages can be — how important we find certain messages, and what we’re willing to sacrifice to promote them when we know the task could be (a) totally thankless and (b) an eventual failure, partially or completely.

And here’s another activist-type question, arguably harder, raised by Lisa during the discussion: Obviously, Berkowitz was somewhat silenced by his community because his criticism was perceived as an attack … but his criticism was also necessary and important and, in the end, lifesaving. So how do we ensure that our communities allow space for tough criticism? How do we make sure that we ourselves give a fair chance to messages that could require us, and our communities, to change — change in major, identity-threatening ways — but that could be so important?

God, I’ve written all this and I haven’t even described most of the discussion, or talked about half the notes I took during the film. I feel as though I’ve only covered the most facile points — I can just imagine the Onion headline: “Wide-eyed young American totally floored by the idea that activism can be hard.” I’ve just written about a few activism-related questions, and there are so many others.

For instance, I thought representations of sex work and BDSM in the film were interesting. Berkowitz expresses reservations about his one-time career as a professional BDSM dominant. It’s unclear how much he thinks sex work is a bad thing in general, but he doesn’t come across as very happy that he did it. He talks about his BDSM activities, and those of his clients, as arising from “self-loathing” and “insecurity” and negative cultural pressures on the gay community; it’s unclear how much he thinks BDSM in general arises from those things. As a BDSM advocate I feel very wary of such representations. I feel even warier of the way Berkowitz, at one point, smiles while recalling how he always made a point of doing the things his partners said they absolutely did not want him to do. Yikes!

(I am often interested in the way BDSM consent was negotiated in past times. The fact that Berkowitz specifically ignored some partners’ boundaries is obviously sketchy, to say the least. But I’ve heard people argue that the BDSM subculture didn’t have such clear-cut notions of exact consent and negotiation until feminists like Andrea Dworkin forced us to address those concerns. So I do wonder how unusual Berkowitz’s approach was, historically speaking, at the time when he lived. If anyone from the BDSM community who lived through that time would like to share some insights, I’d love to hear them.)

Still, it’s also worth noting that Berkowitz said some beautiful things about BDSM, how it made him feel, and how he connected to his BDSM partners. I wish I had written his statements down.

I’ve thought a bit about the way Berkowitz, in the documentary, discussed his coming-into-BDSM. He talked about how he didn’t initially think of himself as a BDSM type — but his partners convinced him that he was perfect for it, started giving him leather accoutrements and grooming him into a BDSM top. Berkowitz certainly describes liking BDSM play — again, there were some beautiful quotations in there — but he doesn’t seem to take a lot of ownership of BDSM as an identity. Which isn’t to say that everyone who does BDSM must own it as an identity! It just makes me wonder where he puts BDSM sexuality in his own self-conception.

The discussion group largely did not seem to feel that Berkowitz made a lot of moral judgments over the course of the film, and I think in the end I do agree … but I also wonder how much pride Berkowitz takes in the activities he once engaged in, and whether he would speak in favor of sex work advocacy or BDSM advocacy.

A fascinating character, Berkowitz!

In the end, I give “Sex Positive” five stars — I’m so glad we got to screen it as part of the series. Regent Releasing tells me that they’re not sure when or how the movie will be released for a wider audience, but if you want to keep track of that, you can always check their website (here it is again).

Our February 24th documentary will be “When Two Won’t Do” — made by a polyamorous filmmaker and her boyfriend, it covers all manner of consensual non-monogamy and will give us all a lot to think about in terms of love, fidelity and the ideal relationship. The screening is courtesy of Picture This Productions. See you there!

Anti-BDSM arguments #1: “BDSM legitimizes abuse”

One of the joys (I use the term loosely) of researching popular conceptions of BDSM, and familiarizing myself with the alternative sexuality blog world, has been learning the ins and outs of various anti-BDSM arguments. (Oh yes — there are anti-BDSM people out there. There are even anti-BDSM activists out there.)

The most popular anti-BDSM arguments are fairly easy to predict. For instance: “No one really wants to be physically hurt. Anyone who claims that they do is wrong in the head — they’re insane. And anyone who then hurts that person is taking advantage of an insane person, and should be prosecuted for assault.” (This is pretty much the judgment that won the day in the famous Spanner Case.)

My opinion on that argument is easy: I’m not insane, and I don’t appreciate it that you’re calling me insane just because I like BDSM.

But there are other anti-BDSM arguments that are much more complex and layered, and those fascinate me. It’s really hard to pick just one anti-BDSM argument to discuss … but I have to, because there are too many anti-BDSM arguments for me to address them all in one post … and besides, wiser heads than mine have already talked a lot of them through. *

So, here’s today’s anti-BDSM argument: “Creating wider acceptance for BDSM will legitimize abuse.”

This argument goes something like:

1) When two consenting people do a BDSM scene together, it can look like abuse to outsiders who are not aware that the scene was worked out ahead of time and that the bottom ** can opt out at any time. That is, outsiders can’t know the difference between BDSM and abuse by looking at it.

2) If the outside world becomes more accepting of BDSM, then outsiders who see signs of violence will become more likely to assume that it is BDSM and not abuse. Therefore, they will be less likely to interfere with a violent situation, or help a victim.

3) Thus: legitimizing BDSM puts people in danger. It means that abusers will be more likely to abuse, because they will think that they can get away with it. Or, alternatively: it means that abusers will be more likely to abuse because they don’t learn the difference between abuse and consent. It also means that people who are actually being abused will have a harder time getting help.

… So. These assertions are interesting, but ultimately, they’re barking up the wrong tree. I see a huge range of cultural issues inherent in this argument, but the major one is this:

The argument assumes that people cannot learn to tell the difference between abuse and consent.

The BDSM subculture stretches over the whole world, and I can’t speak for all of it. (If I tried to say, “BDSMers think this …” or “the BDSM subculture is like this …”, that would be like saying “All Americans think this …” or “All of America is like this ….”) But I can say that, in my experience, there is very high pressure in the BDSM subculture to ensure that all partners consent. In fact, I would say that — in my experience — I’ve encountered higher pressure in the BDSM world to ensure that partners consent, than I have in the rest of the world.

Indeed, BDSM workshops and discussion groups directly address the question of abuse. BDSM educators put a lot of effort into teaching audiences how to avoid abuse.

Outsiders, however, don’t usually see the effort we put into consent. As long as outsiders are forming stereotypes of BDSM based on shallow fashion advertisements and misogynistic badly-negotiated pornography, *** people won’t be able to tell the difference between BDSM and abuse — and, more dangerously, people who are attracted to BDSM will be less likely to understand that there are ways to learn how to do it safely. That’s why we need to legitimize BDSM and correct those stereotypes.

If BDSM is legitimized — if it “comes out of the closet” — then the community’s attitudes towards consent will come out of the closet with it. It’s not like legitimizing BDSM means that everyone will start thinking it’s a great idea to beat other people without their consent. No, legitimizing BDSM means that:

– people who want to learn how to practice BDSM safely will have an easier time attending workshops and discussion groups, and they will therefore be less likely to make unsafe mistakes;

– the public will have a better grasp on what it means to practice consensual BDSM, and what the difference is between BDSM and abuse;

– therefore, more people will have a much better idea of how to tell BDSM from abuse;

– therefore, people who are engaging in abuse will not be confused with BDSMers.

– In fact … it will actually be harder to abuse people once BDSM is legitimized, because it will become harder for abusers to convince others that they’re “just practicing BDSM”. Indeed, if we’re lucky, then BDSM attitudes about consent and respect will percolate into the mainstream enough that it’ll be harder in general to commit abuse.

What causes abuse is not people having consensual sex. What causes abuse is people who don’t respect boundaries, or who fail to communicate about boundaries.

Arguing that accepting BDSM will lead to accepting abuse is analogous to arguing that accepting human sexuality will lead to accepting rape. In other words — telling me that I encourage men to abuse women by having consensual BDSM sex is like telling me that I encourage men to rape women by having consensual vanilla sex.

Outlawing BDSM would not protect people from abuse … any more than outlawing sex would protect people from rape.

The only thing that will protect people from abuse (and rape) is for everyone to understand and value consent.

* If you want to read up on the subject, I recommend that you check out SM-Feminist — where Trinity regularly and brilliantly deconstructs anti-BDSM arguments, as well as talking brilliantly about feminist BDSM in general. Renegade Evolution has some good posts on the subject, too, but she has a wider focus than just BDSM.

** “Bottom” is kind of a catch-all term for “masochist” or “submissive”. Which is not to say that being a masochist and being a submissive are always the same thing. It’s just frequently convenient to have a term that encompasses both.

*** Not all pornography is misogynistic and/or badly-negotiated. But I think most mainstream porn is. And I also think that many popular conceptions of BDSM unfortunately arise from mainstream porn.

“There is no ’should’” and the sex-positive “agenda”

What’s my “agenda”? What does it mean to be a “pro-BDSM activist”? What’s the “sex-positive agenda”? Who is part of the “sex-positive movement”? These are all questions I’ve been thinking about a lot lately — and they seem to constantly recur around the blogosphere, in varying forms. But here’s a question that’s rarely posed explicitly, and it’s the one that preoccupies me the most: What action can I take in the real world to help create a powerful, energetic sex-positive — and pro-BDSM — movement?

I’m thinking fairly pragmatically and concretely these days. Sure, I love discussing highly theoretical questions like, “Why is there stigma against certain sexual identities?” But what I really want is to have a larger cultural impact, not just worry ineffectually at these mysteries like a dog worrying at a bone.

Right before we showed “Kinsey” last Tuesday at my sex-positive documentary series, I spent some time deciding how I would initially address the audience. I was trying to think of a way to summarize “sex-positive” quickly, for a group with a wide variance in exposure to integral concepts like third-wave feminism and non-abstinence sex education.

What I came up with was this:
“It’s really hard, maybe impossible, to sum up the sex-positive movement in a sentence. But if I had to, I would summarize it this way: Among consenting adults, there is no ’should’. The whole idea behind being sex-positive is that we don’t want people to be having — or not having — sex because they feel like they should.”

(If you want to read some more basic descriptions of sex-positive feminism, then I recommend Amber Rhea’s reference list.)

I like my little summary, because I think I’ve found a quick way to get the sex-positive message across. I also think that the film series will create — that it already is creating — a really awesome venue for broad, public, real-life, diverse discussion about positive sexuality. Hopefully our sexy posters (which all say SEX+++ in huge writing) will be bringing in, not only us gender-theory/sexuality nerds, but people who haven’t been exposed to these ideas at all: so this will be their first impression of the sex-positive movement. I’m glad to think that I’ve managed to frame the idea of being sex-positive in an accessible and friendly way that people have a hard time disagreeing with …

… but I also know that’s only step one. Where to go from there?

I recently spoke to a woman who heads a Chicago wellness center; I was trying to convince her to let me give my BDSM Overview presentation through her organization. We talked for half an hour and she took a page full of notes. By the end of it, she told me how much the conversation had made her re-think ideas of consent and sexual negotiation. (The next day, when we were following up by email, she started her message by writing: “Just this morning I was thinking about how our talk really opened up some new ways to think about old concepts. For example, I will never again think about consent as simply being yes or no. So thank you for that.”)

But she also told me that there’s just no way she can authorize a lecture on BDSM for her group. The topic is too transgressive. She wanted to know if I could develop a new workshop: a vanilla workshop on the topic of sexual communication.

And I’m totally fine with that. I agreed without hesitation.

I could worry that I’m “compromising my message” … but I’m not even a little bit worried. Yes, I want to get out some knowledge about BDSM … I think that’s important. But it’s far more important to get people pondering the best ways to talk about sex, what it means to have awesome sex — what it means to have a fully consenting partner who enjoys that awesome sex with you.

Here is my agenda: Consent is everything. Here is my agenda: There is no “should”. My agenda is this: if someone wants to have sex with men, or sex with women, or sex outside marriage, or sex within marriage, or sex with multiple people, or crazy kinky sex, or sex for money, or sex on videotape, or no sex at all … that’s all totally fine, as long as everyone involved feels good about it. My agenda is to treat good sex as something everyone deserves, that everyone can be taught about and trained in, and — more importantly — to convince other people to see it that way too.

Once people start believing these things, then I’m pretty sure they can’t help but be okay with BDSM. Once people start thinking deeply about consent and sexual communication, I don’t see how they can avoid concluding that BDSM is acceptable. Once people start examining their own desires, considering how they themselves are more interested in certain acts than others, and learning how to tell other people about it … it seems to me that they must then agree that other people ought to be able to do the same thing. And alternative sexuality tolerance is just a short jump from there.

“Pro-consent” and “pro-sexual communication” are the same as “pro-BDSM”. For that matter, they’re also the same as “pro-LGBTQ”, “pro-polyamory”, “pro-swinging”, “pro-sex workers’ rights” ….

So, yeah. I’m happy to somewhat submerge my BDSM-tolerant message and “only” talk about consent. I’m absolutely positive that if I can just get people thinking about these issues, that’s half the battle.

And I’m sick and tired of people thinking that we can only focus on one sexually open agenda at a time. I know that there’s tons of polyamorous people out there, or swingers, or sex workers, or pornographers, or furries, or queers — or even mainstream straight people! — who fundamentally agree that consent is key … and yet so many of these groups never even think about the others. We hide in our underground subcultures, we create our dedicated organizations … and while those are not necessarily bad things in themselves, I think we’d all benefit if we could act as a group. In a very fundamental way, we’re all on the same side!

If one person talking about positive sexuality and consent and sexual communication can forward BDSM acceptance, then just imagine what all of us can do … and just imagine what I, with my pro-BDSM agenda, can do for you and your group.