My Pronoun is More Oppressed than Your Pronoun!

There’s been an evolution in many communities, and my local scene has not been exempt.  People are becoming more aware of consent (and consent violations) over time.  All sorts of educational resources have become available to the masses.  People are talking about their own experiences more frequently and to a wider audience.  I see all this as an exceptionally good thing.  If it prevents even one violation of consent, then it’s well worth it.

Some have gone far beyond that though.  There are a handful of individuals and small groups who feel that as long as you’re not a cisgendered hetero white man, you’re entitled to be an asshole to anyone.  Not long ago, if someone accidentally used the wrong pronoun when referring to someone else, that person would simply correct them and continue the conversation.  Not now.  Now, that one incident becomes an immediate cause for a screaming rant in addition to lots of passive-aggressive writings online.

Double standards abound with this crowd.  For example, if someone brings up ways in which men get screwed over in life, there are mocking cries of, “what about teh menz?”  (You’d think these people, more than anyone, would be familiar with the concept of kyriarchy.)  And this is coming from a group who fashion themselves champions of equal rights.  Using this same logic of theirs, one could easily say, “Oh, rape isn’t a problem because there are far more people all over the world without adequate access to clean food, water, and medicine.  It’s a bigger problem, so we should just ignore rape until this other problem gets fixed.”  This logic obviously doesn’t make sense, but they don’t see this.  They claim their opponents are mindlessly locked into an ideology, without seeing that they themselves suffer from the same issue.

Many of these folks feel determined to play “who’s more oppressed” and look for any opportunity to snap at someone for a real or perceived disrespect.  The latter is behavior I’d expect from thugs in the ghetto, not from educated middle-class people.

People like this have, over time, driven themselves out of the BDSM community here.  The simple fact is that no one owes anyone else friendship or company, and people tend to pull away from those who make them feel bad.  If you make it difficult for me to talk to you because you take offense at everything I say, I’m not likely to engage you often.  It’s easier to walk away than it is for an entire community to dance around someone’s preferred way of doing things.

Most people in the BDSM community would consider themselves feminists, allies, egalitarian, or something along those lines.  It’s the extremists (with the behavior outlined above) who I have an issue with.  I generally don’t get along with extremists of any flavor, conservative or liberal, religious or atheist.  I do my best to be respectful of peoples’ gender identities, and I try to stay conscious of any threatening posture or actions on my part.  At the same time, I refuse to walk on eggshells to appease a small number of people.

Drama Llama Ding Dong

Drama is a dirty word in many BDSM communities as well as online.  It seems people are split over the issue though.  One group of people loudly proclaims an aversion to drama; the other says that drama is a natural part of life- breakups, illness, job loss, etc.  This divide really comes down to differing ideas of what constitutes drama.

Yes, all the aforementioned problems are part of life.  There is no avoiding them.  But is that really drama?  They’re the subjects that make up many dramas on TV.  When I mention drama however, I’m talking about blowing things out of proportion or attention-seeking behavior.  I’m talking about dragging private matters out in public in order to garner sympathy or attention, or raising one’s voice and copping an attitude over something very minor.  This has nothing to do with the inevitable ups and downs of life.  Drama of this variety is completely voluntary.  And it’s this voluntary attention-seeking drama that most people are talking about when they say they’re allergic to drama.

Dragging up an old issue that was long since resolved?  Drama.

Typical breakup?  Not drama.

Typical breakup after which you very publicly drag your ex through the mud online and to anyone who will listen?  Drama.

Rape?  Not drama.

Publicly posting a message to a particular person on fet after they blocked you?  Drama.

Claustrophobia which leads you to be unable to do bondage or cages?  Not drama.

Telling people that someone is a predator after they accidentally wrapped a few times while whipping you?  Drama.

Someone ignoring a safeword and continuing the scene?  Not drama.

Whining because someone touched your shoulder without explicit written permission?  Drama.

Clear enough?  It’s the self-martyring and attempts at stirring the pot that fall under the “drama” label as most people use it.  It’s completely unnecessary and usually rather unpleasant.   There is no need for that kind of ugliness in this or any community.  This is the kind of thing people mean when they say they “don’t do drama”.

Despite All My Rage, I am Still Just a roo in a Cage

I’ve got a small dog  cage in my living room.  It’s always fun whenever friends from the community come over.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a dog!”

“I don’t.”

Caging was never a type of play I’d been into before, mainly due to lack of exposure to it.  But then a friend had me be the middleman in giving her dog’s cage to another friend.  While it was in my possession, I saw the size of it and wondered if I’d fit, so of course I tried.  It was a snug fit.  I bought one.

It’s just large enough for me to fit in if I stay curled up.  I can get into a semi-comfortable position in it, but that only lasts about 5-10 minutes before I have to find another position.  T and I had tried it a few times now, each time for roughly half an hour.  I found it incredibly sexy to look up at her relaxing on the couch, completely ignoring me.  Between her laptop and her massive collection of books, she’s never short on things to do while I’m in the cage.  Knowing that I was completely at her mercy and couldn’t get out until she wanted to let me out made her power more palpable.

The other night, she had me strip as soon as we walked in the door.  She placed the collar around my neck and had me get in the cage.  Then she simply walked away.  She eased onto the couch, turned on her laptop, and put on some headphones.  (She didn’t want me to hear the music as that makes the time pass faster for me when I can hear it.)  Her shoes off, she positioned herself so her soles were facing me, which was a further way of teasing me with something I constantly crave. This time, she kept me in the cage for an hour.

Extended caging is one of the things we’d talked about trying before.  It’s intimidating but potentially rewarding.  Being brought to the point where I desperately want out, yet she refuses to let me out, is a powerful fantasy.  We definitely had more of that aspect to it this time around.  It wasn’t to the point where I was pulling on the bars and pleading to be let out, but it was enough to start to cause some of that inner panic.  This really drove home the fact that she’s in control.  And it contrasted very well with her calm, aloof demeanor as she relaxed on the couch.  She was relaxed and comfortable, enjoying the evening, while I was tightly confined and wanting out.  This mental/emotional aspect of caging is one that I find the hottest about it.  I also like bondage, so I get off on the physical struggle against it as well.  But once something gets to a point where I no longer want it, that’s when we both get more turned on.  Even though I genuinely want it to stop in the moment, I look back on it later and think, “Damn that was hot!”  This “make it stop” quality is a hallmark of the scenes I think about when I orgasm.

When my cock isn’t locked away in a cage of its own, that is.