Guilt -- Roots?

Our family has, in the last few weeks/months, made the acquaintance of several people who are new to the lifestyle, curious about the lifestyle, or making a transition from one sort of BDSM practice (or perceived set of roles) to another. Our new friends comprise an interesting cross-section of people with a wide range of relational dynamics and desires. We don't pretend to have "answers," although we do gladly offer to share what we've learned along the way with anyone who has the patience to listen to us all babble on about what it is that we do.


There is so much that someone "new" to all of this wants/needs to know. For us, it really is a matter of listening carefully, responding openly, and then sharing the fruits of our journeying over the years.


One thing that has come up with a couple of these people is the notion that there is something about all of this that might/can/should engender guilt (or some similar emotion). There is a lot that fuels that reaction. It is based on a set of assumptions and social beliefs that are so convoluted, it can take weeks or months or even years to unravel it and begin to sort it all out. I don't pretend to be any kind of expert, but I do think that, until a person comes to terms with that set of assumptions and beliefs, it is very difficult to move forward into a healthy and joyful BDSM relationship dynamic.


So, let me see if I can get to some of the roots of this kind of guilty reaction...

I really believe that the most likely source of BDSM-related guilt is the connection between almost all of what constitutes BDSM and sex. I know and acknowledge that there is the sort of Dominance/submission relationship that is not specifically (or even remotely) sexual. There are relationships that are entirely and purely based on service. At least that is what I have heard and read. I've never personally met anyone involved in such a dynamic. Almost always, at some level, it is about sex/romance/love.


Power is sexy. Power is erotic. Power is hot. If I give my power, if it is taken and used to move me in ways I cannot control or direct, that can give my partner and I, both, a huge arena in which to explore our sexual natures.


What makes that so difficult for so many of us is that we mostly come from a social background that tells us (from the time we are very small) that sex is bad, sick, wrong, crude, vulgar, dirty, perverted, nasty, disgusting, ... It is so disgusting in fact, that it must absolutely be saved for the marriage relationship (huh?). Even then, it must only be engaged in within certain very tightly defined boundaries. Anything that is outside of the approved sexual expression list, is cause for extreme guilt.

Much of that is driven by traditional religious dogma and convention. I know that my own Roman Catholic upbringing was pervaded with messages that made it clear to me what was considered "good, Christian" behavior for a girl and/or woman, and what was outside that boundary. The church told me not to be sexual, not to enjoy sex, not to seek out sex, not to display my sexual nature, not to entertain my sexual desires. The church taught me that I could aspire to no higher vocation for my life than to follow the path of sexless, life-long chastity, but that, if I simply had to succumb to the lures of SEX, a church-sanctioned marriage was the only way to do that and still be OK. Even then, the church emphasized that I was to engage in sex for one purpose only -- that of procreation. If I wasn't willing to become pregnant and bear children, I was taught that there was no justification for sex. It is a mean and nasty sort of theology.

Even outside the church, there were a myriad of messages about what it meant to step outside the sexual norms. It was common, in my adolescence, for girls who flirted with sex to be saddled with the perjorative labels which identified them as irretrievably fallen from grace: slut, whore, floozy, tramp, loose, cock tease... And I am old enough to remember friends who took the risks, found themselves pregnant, and were then "sent away" to bear their "shame" in secret.


So that was the background for my coming of age sexually -- the air we all breathed in the years of my childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood. I know that it is nominally a newer world where those judgements are less common or at least less vitriolic, but I believe that they are still there, although less overt. I certainly hear them in the language my students use -- even when they seem completely unaware of the implications of what they say to one another.

But there is more. Because we are not just talking about a little good old fashioned, roll-in-the-hay sex. We are talking about BDSM. We are thinking in terms of sadomasochism, bondage, Dominance and submission, discipline, humiliation, objectification, and a whole range of kinks. It is all so -- well, perverse. Isn't it? That question continues to be raised. The labels continue to be applied. Never mind that BDSM has been removed from the list of paraphilias listed in the DSM-V. A pretty cursory Internet search will turn up plenty of references that will lead one to question the state of one's mental stability -- "what the hell is wrong with me?! Why can't I just be normal." I know I've asked that question more than once.


And then there is the fact that what it is that we do can land one in all sorts of social trouble. People find themselves unemployed, arrested, in child custody battles. To come to be generally known as a BDSM practitioner can lead directly to the role of social parriah. It is the rare practitioner in the lifestyle that finds it possible to share much about their life with friends, family, co-workers, worship community, teachers at their child's school, or health care providers. There are those who, by whatever circumstance, are able to be "out" in varying degrees, but for many, following a lifestyle path, means spending a good part of one's life in disguise. That has its own crippling side-effects.

Too, for many of us there is the expectation that modern-day feminism places on us -- to be strong, to be independent, to take care of ourselves, to follow our own paths. I know. I am a feminist. I've fought the battles for years, and believe the foundational doctines of that religion: that women are different than men, but ought to be treated as political, social, and economic equals; that all men and women deserve equal access to the opportunities within our society; that no one ought to be relegated to the background on the basis of their gender... A strong femininst ethic can seem to stand at odds with a personal inclination toward submission and/or masochism. How do you fit those two together with any kind of integrity?



That's a heavy load, and it is, by no means, an exhaustive list. Many of us grapple, at some level, with a set of stories that bear a resemblance to that set of "notions." And, then, we turn up with a personal understanding of "who we are" that drives us into an exploration of lifestyle SM and D/s or M/s. Talk about cognitive dissonance! So what can be done, to wind through the thickets and find some sort of peace and personal comfort with who we are as sexual/erotic beings within that context?



Every person is going to have their own set of solutions and answers. Here are a few of mine:



1) Religion/spirituality -- I was already on a path of discovery in my spiritual life by the time I began to actively explore BDSM. I already knew that, for me at least, the set of beliefs that I'd been taught as a child did not work for me as an adult. That isn't always the case as people come into the lifestyle. So, one of the first steps to take, if personal faith is in conflict with sexual drives is to evaluate systematically and carefully. I believe it is helpful to honestly and openly ask questions:

• What do I believe?
• Why do I believe this?
• Where did I acquire this belief?
• Is there any reasonable, logical foundation to the things that I believe?
• Have I ever "fact checked" any of the stories I was told as a child?
• How would my life be different if I came to relinquish the belief system that I have held to from my youth?
• What is the value of this belief system in my life?
• Does my sense of who I am rest irretrievably on my adhering to this set of beliefs?

Next, I believe that it is necessary, when one chooses to practice BDSM, to make friends with the bodies we occupy. One of my favorite authors, Kathleen Norris, wrote in her book Dakota, about the importance of personal geography -- the value of a sense of personal rootedness. Just as coming to a sense of attachment and belonging to a place, I believe it is necessary to become attached to and rooted to our personal, physical selves. Our bodies are, for each and all of us, our ultimate and essential personal geography. We live nowhere except that we live in our own skins. We may not be able, for a variety of reasons, to be "out" to friends, family, co-workers, and the other inhabitants of our lives, but we simply must come "out" to ourselves. To find the contours and topography of our own sexual selves brings us into self-acceptance and a loving celebration of our own glory as part of the creation. Acknowledging the gifts we have been given, embracing the uniqueness of our sensual expression brings our hearts and minds and bodies into alignment with one another. None of that can change the way the outside world views us, but it can go a long way to making the words we tell to ourselves be affirming and positive.

The social stigma of what it is that we do is a reality and a fact. It is unfortunate. It is not fair or just. It can be dealt with and managed. It is important to make pro-active, self-determined decisions about what it is that we share with those who are not into the lifestyle. No one NEEDS to know about our interior lives. For some, it is healthy to be very open and honest about their internal lifestyle dynamics. Each one who can go openly into the world, educating and advocating, clears the path to a more open future for all of us. Still, it should be by choice and with care that we share who we are with those who might not understand. Know that such sharing can have benefits, but may also have real costs. Choose carefully what you share and with whom.

As for the political drumbeat of feminism. I sincerely believe it need not be a philosophy that lives in conflict with the choice to engage in personal power dynamics. Without personal power to lay on the table, the power exchange becomes pretty meaningless. There is nothing weak about choosing a path that deliberately explores the nature of power, how it might be balanced, and what it means to relinquish it. We choose to explore and live at the outer edges of the human sexual/erotic experience. It is a choice that requires great courage and personal strength.

The trick, through it all, is to come to this with awareness, personal integrity, courage, and openess. It is possible to live healthy, happy and whole in the midst of the lifestyle -- nevermind what the rest of all those people might say.

swan