On Justice and Community Policing

Several months ago, I let a guy named Jefferson host a party at my house. A prominent figure in the kink, blogging, and spoken word spheres, we ran in the same circles and were both members of a group with a pretty high barrier for entry– one that prides itself on emphasizing consent to ensure the safety of its members. Because of this, I felt comfortable opening my home to him and his friends for a night.

The party was a disaster– the agreement was that I’d provide the space and invite a couple of my friends, and he’d do the legwork. Despite initially agreeing to a men’s only party, the original invitations said that though the party was “focused on male-on-male action,” all were welcome. He said some deeply misguided shit regarding trans people, but I chalked it up to ignorance and dismissed it. When the day came, Jefferson arrived late, fucked up, and alone– none of the men he’d invited ended up coming. I wonder whether he invited them at all, or just expected my friends to carry the party.  Determined to have his dick sucked by 50 different people throughout the month in honor of his 50th birthday, he unceremoniously waggled his cock in front of each attendee’s face to add another notch to his belt. He’d been there maybe an hour, but I was already regretting my decision.

The last straw came when he interrupted a scene of mine and punched my bottom. I told him to ask the bottom’s permission. He ignored me and did it again. Louder this time, I told him to ask. He tried for a third time, and I had to physically intervene and tell him to get the hell out of our way.

The following Monday, I shot an email to the moderators of the group that introduced us. To my surprise, they replied that they had received multiple emails about him and they were investigating. He’d violated the consent of other members at different parties (yes, plural) throughout the weekend. Upon further investigation, we found evidence that suggested he’s been at this a long time. There’s an internet trail alluding to consent violations as far back as 2005 (see here and here from 2008, Jefferson’s own long, narcissistic diatribe from 2010 in which he gaslights his former partners, an anonymous account of a different consent violation on a kinky blacklist, and an incredibly difficult to read account of a scene in which he gave his bottom a third degree burn). The moderators decided unanimously to boot him from the group and withdraw their support for his sex-related storytelling night.

Some members notified the venue of his storytelling night of his history, and the venue decided to discontinue hosting the event.

Months later, the event reappeared at a different venue. Jefferson gets away with his behavior by establishing himself as an authority figure within sex positive communities and drawing in new people who may not have experience with the kink scene and enforcing their boundaries. It’s an M.O. I’ve seen before. They start “fresh,” never mention their backgrounds, and continue hurting people.

We notified the new venue and they withdrew their invitation. He found another, and we repeated ourselves. We’ll continue to intervene as many times as we need to before he gives up and accepts that he and his events are not welcome in our city. We won’t accept him as an authority figure anymore, and we won’t let new faces to the scene see him as someone to be trusted because of his status and connections.

We can’t protect everyone. We can keep him away, but there are dozens like him. The best we can do is to share information freely and keep these men and women out of positions of relative power and make it clear to the scene that abusive behavior won’t be tolerated. We are a community, and we need to protect our own.


Rate of Exploration Over Time

I dove into the world of kink headfirst as soon as I was legally able. I’d been sexually active for a few years already, and I was chomping at the bit to become a part of a culture I’d only been able to interact with by falsifying my age on the internet. I went to munches, met people, sought out parties, and tried everything I could get my hands on. I was starving for experiences.

And then a couple of years in, something happened: I withdrew. I noticed that I was using fewer and fewer of the toys I’d collected, and munches were no longer a priority on my calendar. I no longer actively searched for new partners, and I stopped playing with a number of regulars.

What happened? Even I was surprised, and I started questioning myself. Was I “more vanilla” than I’d previously thought? Was it just a phase? Was I in some kind of funk?

I chewed on the question for a few weeks and came to (what now seems like) an obvious conclusion: I came; I experimented; I refined.

When I started out, I didn’t know what I wanted or what I liked. I had a general idea: I knew that I got off on hurting people and that I preferred being in control. But beyond that, I was clueless. I had to experiment to really understand my desires, because they are much more subtle than that. Through experimentation, I found the activities that really pushed my buttons and those that I could do without. I found the kind of partners that were right for me, and which would be incompatible.

My kink activity slowed down not because I had lost interest, but because I’d just stopped doing the things I didn’t like. These days I can summarize my style of play pretty easily: I like primal rough body play with active bottoms and lot of physical contact, especially in the context of consensual non-consent. I don’t mind being hit back within that context, but I don’t like to bottom or sub. I’m relationship-oriented, and I like service-based dynamics. My style of dominance is Daddy-like and protective.

I’ll still try new things and occasionally surprise myself, but I’m pretty content with sticking to the things I like. Sex and kink are meant to be fun, not a competition. Just as kinky sex isn’t inherently “better” than vanilla sex, those of us with relatively narrow interests aren’t doing it wrong. 

On Demographics

Allyn and I had a blast in New York this weekend, spending time with friends and seeing Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart in Waiting for Godot. The show sparked an invigorating conversation about the continued value of live theater and dance, and left me with a storm of thoughts about theater, accessibility, and appealing to a younger generation raised on explosions and CGI absorbed passively from behind a television, separated by a degree of sterilization and impersonalization.

Food for thought, though not what this blog is about and not something I’ll dwell on here.

February is a big month for us, between the NYC trip this weekend, flying out to DC for Winter Fire next weekend, and our roommate’s birthday later in the month. We’re appreciating the opportunity to really spend time together, where the question of what we should do for dinner is more exciting than dreaded and our hedonistic flag can fly at full-mast (…get it? It’s totally a dick joke).

Still, I am undeniably an introvert at my core. For every night of debauchery, I need at least three of video games, reading, and silence. I’m not heavily involved in our local scene mostly because it’s just outright exhausting. There seems to be an expectation that being kinky means being a part of the scene, but I haven’t got the stomach for it.

When we consider the demographics of kinky people, we take a look at the scene and generalize from there. But how many more of us out there who keep our fun to ourselves?

“There are so few dominant women.” “Kink and non-monogamy go hand-in-hand.” “Kink events are so white.” “Lesbians aren’t kinky.”

Why do we assume that these are facts, rather than a reflection of a small subset of the kinky population? Why do we argue that there “aren’t many dominant women” rather than acknowledging that we live in a culture that actively discourages dominance and assertiveness among women, and that the scene isn’t exactly welcoming for them?

Why don’t we factor in the exorbitant costs of participating publicly when taking our demographics into account? Even if attending weekend-long retreat events didn’t cost hundreds, it still involves taking the time off work and ensuring that you’ve got child/pet care covered in your absence.

We only see the overwhelmingly homogenous tip of the iceberg. I suspect that the demographics of the kinky population are much broader than the scene would have you believe.

On Consent and Community

Let’s talk about consent and making our communities safer.

When you first join a sex-positive community or the kink scene, the first thing they tell you is that consent is of the utmost importance. But stick around a while longer and you’ll encounter a huge number of people who have had their consent violated and their boundaries crossed. You’ll hear stories about well-respected community leaders crossing others’ boundaries. Sometimes, these are the same leaders who stressed the importance of consent to you in the first place.

Why the disconnect? I do believe that most people in kinky/sex-pos communities are well-intentioned and practice what they preach, but the “community” environment lends itself to becoming a safe haven for predators. The kink scene especially, in its efforts to differentiate between BDSM and abuse, has a tendency to overlook the problems within.

What You Can Do to Avoid Violating Someone’s Consent

I’m serious. Fuck those guides on “how to protect yourself.” I think the single biggest cause of consent violation is a narrow understanding of what consent means. If you define consent as “(s)he didn’t say ‘no,'” there’s a good chance you have violated (or will violate) someone’s consent. Consent is:

  • Uncoerced: Consent given under pressure, threat, or intimidation is not valid consent. If he initially says “no,” but relents after the seventeenth time you asked, you are coercing him. If she agrees only because she’s afraid of harm or your disappointment, you’re coercing her.
  • Unimpaired by drugs, alcohol, or sub space. Do not wait until she’s intoxicated to spring an idea on her, because you think she wouldn’t consent to it otherwise. Yes, I do consider sub space a form of endogenous intoxication: I’ve played with people who go non-verbal in sub space and who lose a concrete understanding of what’s happening to them or who’s doing it. They’re less inhibited, their pain thresholds are elevated, and they’re less aware of their bodies. Sound familiar?
  • Unambiguous: The absence of “no” does not mean “yes.” I don’t believe that consent must always be verbal, but it probably should be unless you know your partner very well. Consider his body language: if he hasn’t said “no,” but he’s covering himself, pulling away, or blocking your touch, you don’t have consent.
  • Specific: Consent to sex with a condom is not consent to sex without a condom. Consent to bondage is not consent to sex. Consent to sex is not consent to bondage. Consent to spanking is not consent to anything but spanking. You catch my drift?
  • One-time-use: Similarly, consent does not extend beyond the end of an activity. Just because you had mind-blowing sex with him tonight doesn’t mean you can jump him in the morning and assume it’s OK.

If you’re unsure, don’t do it. If he really, honestly wants to fuck you when he’s drunk, he’ll want to fuck you sober. If you didn’t discuss punching beforehand, but you think she might be into it, mentally file it under “maybe” and ask her when you’re negotiating your next scene.

How to Protect Your Communities

First and foremost, do your part by following the above rules and not violating anyone’s consent.

Then, listen to others. Support community members who have had bad experiences. Never blame the victim or suggest what he could have done to prevent the consent violation. Don’t vouch for anyone you aren’t 100% certain is safe, and if you do serve as a reference, be careful to speak only about your own experiences. Encourage second opinions, because your positive experience may not be universal.

Have a direct impact on safety at parties in your area by learning how and volunteering to be a dungeon monitor . Some groups offer classes in DMing, but if not, there’s more than enough literature on the net to get you started.

Don’t support known predators. Don’t attend their classes. Don’t attend their parties or events. Don’t invite them to your parties or events.

This is where things get sticky. I know this one is controversial, but share what you know, while respecting victims’ privacy. If you know that John Doe had a bad experience with Jane Smith and Sally Jones is considering inviting Jane to her party, speak up. Say something like, “I’ve heard that Jane sometimes takes advantage of her bottoms when they’re in sub space.” Don’t mention John by name without asking him.

Prepare for backlash if you do this. There are some in the scene who brush off these accounts as hearsay, and may accuse you of “causing drama.” It’s up to you to decide where you stand on this, but personally, I think that if “drama” is the cost of safety, I’m willing to pay it.

Like sex, no community is 100% safe. Still, fostering an environment that values consent, supports victims, and condemns predators goes a long way toward helping a scene live up to the moniker of “community.”