Words about Slavery

I was out driving somewhere recently. Perhaps I was headed to school or to the grocery; I can't remember exactly what day it was or where I was going. I imagine I was most likely listening to our local National Public Radio station, since that is my option these days now that we've lost our local Air America outlet here in the great conservative armpit of the midwest...

At any rate, I heard some commentary on the nature of slavery. I'd come into it at the very end, and I am quite sure that it had nothing at all to do with OUR sort of lifestyle at all. Most likely, the conversation was some sort of academic discussion -- probably a historical look at slavery in the U.S, or the Caribbean, or (even further back) maybe ancient Rome. Whatever the context, there was a single line that caught my attention: "the defining characteristic of slavery is the lack of the right to one's own self."

That's been echoing around in my mind ever since; banging up against lesson plans and chore lists and fragments of songs and leftover bits of dreams and menu plans and wishing for summer and wondering about the kids and assorted other odds and ends that float through my head on a regular basis.

I don't spend a lot of time thinking about slavery. I live it. It is my life and my identity. Still, I live a lot of my time looking kind of "normal" to most people, and I don't dwell on the slavery part of my life. It has come to be such a part of my life that I don't invest a lot of conscious energy into making it "real." It is real. Every now and then, though, I can get caught by something, or some confluence of things, that sets me off in a different direction in my thinking about it. These last few weeks have been that sort of space for me.

I suppose part of it is that there seems to be a lot of conversation in the places where I read about things like "rules," and "tasks," and "protocols," and "training," and the like. I understand what it all is, and I don't question the validity of any of those approaches in the relationships where they are employed -- and I am aware (sometimes vividly) that we don't do any of that; and really never have.

As I look back at our history together, I remember that our move to the place where we came to see ourselves as Master and slave was very slow and subtle. We met as members of the same listserve. Hardly knew each other at all at first. Eventually made some connection, and gradually hooked up to the point of seeking each other out for further contact. After all, we were living at nearly opposite ends of a very big continent. At first the relating was as friends and for the sake of a mentor/student sort of partnership. We moved into a casual, now and then play partner matchup, and eventually to the level of lovers and then to D/s. For a very long time, we resisted the labels of Master and slave, and all the lurid, fantasy realm implications of that appelation. In time, though, that dynamic grew between us, and the acknowledgement became one that we could not deny. We accepted the truth of what was between us because it WAS; not because we did anything in particular to make it be.


I am His, and I don't ever doubt that for a single minute. T is His as well. We are sisters, and we are different. We see our relationships with Him differently. He sees His relationships with each of us differently. We all define those relationships differently, using different labels. We have and hold different expectations, in some ways, but we are absolutely devoted to one another, and we absolutely understand the expectations within our family and our household. Sometimes, when I read about all the lists of rules and whatnot, I find myself a little bumfuzzled. It isn't so much that I feel judged or judging; it is just that I am a bit amazed. I have a difficult time imagining it in our world, to be honest. Our lives are so full and so busy. Most days, we are up at 5 AM, and there are many, many nights when one or the other (at least) of us is out at a meeting or event until 9 PM or later. Then, there begins the necessary business of dinner and checking in with one another and checking up on the various branches and bits of the extended and far flung family and keeping up with the health stuff and decompressing and politicking and householding and ... It's a whirl.


She and I do it together (like synchronized swimmers), and mostly smoothly, and entirely without rules or protocols or rituals. Goodness! He has no time or patience for such. He'd never stand for anything so demanding of His energies. When He's here, He expects to be able to relax, to enjoy, to be cared for, and attended to in the ways that support His comfort and well-being and happiness. We make that happen, and He most often never knows about a very great deal of it, although He tries to be appreciative of what He does notice. In turn, He can be loving and sweet and concerned and generous and almost boyish when He the mood strikes Him.

Returning to where I began this wandering ramble, that the defining characteristic of slavery is the lack of rights to one's own self; I was reminded of conversations that magdala and I went through oh so long ago about the responsibilities (or at least need) of a Master to somehow take care of that which was "property" if it was to be available for His use. There arises, when that discussion comes up, the ethical question, of whether a "slave" can be compared to an inanimate object like a table or a towel. Does it behoove a Master to consider the wants/needs of the slave, or can such be ignored as the slave simply remains available to be of service when and if that service is required?

My deep suspicion is that it is terribly difficult to remain in the place of a true and centered slave heart in the absence of those tangible things that indicate attentiveness from the Dominant partner -- rules, rituals, protocols, tasks... For a slave to simply do what is needful, appropriate, required, expected -- all without demand or rules or lists, requires incredible internal energy and self-control and discipline. Doing these things without external supports brings no assurance of any sort of reinforcing or rewarding feedback. Slavery carried out without the usual trappings becomes a naked gamble. It is all or nothing. There is no bargaining and no negotiation hidden in the details. It does not have the potential for the unspoken deal: "I will bow and serve IF You will tend to my needs for structure, pain, reassurance, etc..."


Sometimes, many times, as I read from place to place to place, I find myself imagining OUR world configured in the ways that I read about elsewhere. I wonder what it would be like to have those frameworks in place to form touchstones that I could anchor to on some sort of regular basis as I navigate the deep emotional waters of my days. I can feel the responsiveness that comes up in me -- that Rapunzel in the high tower sort of dreaming safeness, and I know that there lives in my heart the wishing for the fairy tale of the far off castle where I would never again have to go out and face down the world's dragons.

And then, I open my eyes, look around, and see my real life. And my real life is very, very good.

swan