Submission

I've had several conversations in the last month (or maybe a little more) that have pivoted on the notion of submission and what it might be or not be. The recurring theme has been that submission as a personality attribute leaves a person prone to acting in ways that make others happy while leaving her unhappy, resentful, and unfulfilled. This is the common perception of how submission works, but it is entirely contrary to my experience. The vast majority of submissives that I know are people of integrity, determination, and strength who find their joy in living out this essential part of who they really are.

Submissives, if they are healthy, are not doormats to be trampled upon by everyone in the world. They are people who are inherently aware of who they are and to whom they belong. The submissives that I know best submit inside their relationships, and make it clear what their boundaries are elsewhere. I don't know any "voiceless" submissives. They have intellects and ideas, and they find ways to express that within their dynamics. Further, that expression is generally appreciated, and often even required by those who hold their power within relationship.

The whole set of discussions has had me thinking about the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale, The Princess and the Pea. It is a story that we all know, but I think there are parts to it that speak to the nature of submission. Here's one version of the story:

There was once a prince, and he wanted a princess, but then she must be a real Princess. He travelled right around the world to find one, but there was always something wrong. There were plenty of princesses, but whether they were real princesses he had great difficulty in discovering; there was always something which was not quite right about them. So at last he had come home again, and he was very sad because he wanted a real princess so badly.
One evening there was a terrible storm; it thundered and lightninged and the rain poured down in torrents; indeed it was a fearful night.
In the middle of the storm somebody knocked at the town gate, and the old King himself went to open it.
It was a princess who stood outside, but she was in a terrible state from the rain and the storm. The water streamed out of her hair and her clothes; it ran in at the top of her shoes and out at the heel, but she said that she was a real princess.
'Well we shall soon see if that is true,' thought the old Queen, but she said nothing. She went into the bedroom, took all the bed clothes off and laid a pea on the bedstead: then she took twenty mattresses and piled them on top of the pea, and then twenty feather beds on top of the mattresses. This was where the princess was to sleep that night. In the morning they asked her how she slept.
'Oh terribly bad!' said the princess. 'I have hardly closed my eyes the whole night! Heaven knows what was in the bed. I seemed to be lying upon some hard thing, and my whole body is black and blue this morning. It is terrible!'
They saw at once that she must be a real princess when she had felt the pea through twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds. Nobody but a real princess could have such a delicate skin.
So the prince took her to be his wife, for now he was sure that he had found a real princess, and the pea was put into the Museum, where it may still be seen if no one has stolen it.
Now this is a true story.

If you are of the opinion that a "true" submissive gets taken advantage of, never gets what she wants, and makes others happy at her own expense, then you are likely to not see the parallel between the Princess in the fairy tale and submission. Still, I'll insist that there are distinct features to this well-known story that point to the traits of a self-aware sort of submission.

To begin with, this is no faint-hearted, timid soul. She arrives in the middle of a terrific storm -- the quintessential dark and stormy night. All alone, soaked, and disheveled, she comes looking for a place to finally rest and find safety and refuge. In spite of everything that she has endured in making her journey, she declares who she is -- a real princess.

We already know how really rare this particular sort of person is. Remember the prince had traveled the world looking for "a real princess," and not found a single one -- lots of wannabes, but no genuine articles. The real deal isn't a commodity to be taken lightly, but something precious and valuable to be treasured.

The real princess, spends the night in the bed prepared for her by the Queen, and it is a miserable and difficult trial. She is left sleepless and bruised by the ordeal, but she completes it precisely as it was set out. She is both tender and strong.

When asked how she slept, the princess is entirely forthcoming and honest in her response: "I slept terribly badly. It felt as if there were something hard and jagged in the bed. No matter how I turned and shifted I could not find comfort. I am left black and blue this morning." There's no effort to blame, but also no effort to hide the realities either.

In the end, the princess comes to belong to her prince. The relationship that meets the needs of both partners is created, and everyone "lives happily ever after."

Life, of course, is not a fairy tale, and there is seldom a "happily ever after," but our stories can tell us a very great deal about who we really are. I think it is way too easy to fall into common misconceptions about the nature of submssion. Doing that means that we end up denying our truths, and failing in pursuing our own deep happiness. If we elect to enact a power dynamic within our relationships that does not acknowledge and affirm our truth, our strength, our grace, our vulnerability, and our tenderness, then we doom those relationships to failure and misery.

swan