Fight, for Fuck's Sake
21 June 2017 | 12:06 am

When I learned of Si’s passing, my first thought - after again compulsively yelling “HOLY FUCK” - was “Please, for the love of god don’t let this have been suicide.” This thought was likely colored by the fact that someone in Chicago recently killed themself, but the primary motivator was how amazing and welcoming both of these individuals were. I expected to feel almost a sigh of relief when someone said it wasn’t, but instead I was left with the thoughts I’d had about what a positive person he was any time I saw him.

I remember not being as impacted by death when I was younger, and I don’t think this had anything to do with it being a less frequent occurrence at the time or that it's people who meant more to me. In fact, I feel like there are people who could logistically be called acquaintances (though I wholeheartedly refer to friends) whose torch being extinguished honestly affected me more than losing my great grandmother and my grandfather. I spent a good amount of time being raised by my grandfather, and my great grandmother was the family member I talked to most when I was first on my own … and yet, I find myself more impacted by the loss of people I’ve only interacted with a number of times that could easily be counted.

What’s happened as I’ve gotten older, I think, is I’ve realized how small I am. Within the context of my family, yes, these people made a tremendous difference to me and who I am. They protected me, they loved me, they taught me to love, and they let me be myself - things I try with every fiber of my being to carry into the world. But no matter how much I appreciate what they gave me, the world where I came from always felt so incredibly small. We had our neighbors as friends and that was essentially the extent of our social gatherings outside the family. I understand that some people want to live small, quiet lives, but the more people I meet the more I see how much work there is to be done.

It’s no secret that community is important to me, and I can’t imagine myself ever wanting a quiet life; nature is pretty and tranquility is nice, but people are fucking beautiful. If anything, this is a sentiment that has strengthened with age instead of souring into cynicism like it does for most. I think a lot of this is rooted in being involved in queer culture, but I’m honestly so immersed in gay/kink stuff that I literally can’t tell what normal culture looks like any more. A friend was joking the other day about some director saying “It’s not believable to have two gay characters in a friend group,” to which they responded “Hunny, I haven’t seen a straight person in a week.” Aside from work (and even parts of work), my entire life is LGBTQQI.

One of the main reasons I think people are so beautiful is their potential for growth when they’re given a supportive environment. The world has a way of beating down the things that make people special, and queer culture is the strongest existing force against this erosion of true self. Whether it’s the simple acknowledgement that love is okay - even when it’s complicated - or that it’s okay to not adhere to a specific gender norm, or that sex is not evil and immoral it empowers people, it's a culture that says “Hun .. you do you: you're amazing,” and I can't think of a better way to enable mental health and growth. When you cut off the fear of rejection that is drilled into us by oppressive standards, suddenly people are more willing to pay it forward instead of trying to shoot someone down before they can be shot down.

As I reflected on the initial thought I had - “Please don't let it have been suicide,” really more prayer than thought - it actually became a little unsettling that I couldn't feel grateful he was around rather than sad he's gone from the world. I really did not know him that well through interaction, only through seeing what he was to others. Wondering why what he represented was so important to me kind of lead into thinking about community, which made me wonder why I can't just let myself just be a “rocking chair on the porch” kinda guy despite being such a huge ball of anxiety. And there it was again: that knee-jerk fear that another beautiful, amazing person had taken their own life. The fact that he hadn't was no longer relevant; the fact that some of my friends and my family are so exhausted by the world telling them that their existence is wrong they have life-long intimacy issues, or substance abuse problems, or take their own lives … that's what mattered in that moment, and why being grateful doesn't feel like enough.

I recognize the imagery of love and war may seem antithetical, but we need soldiers. We need people willing to put themselves out there fearlessly to show others it can be done. We need people wearing the emotional equivalent of teflon armor so that the aggression of rejection (or by extension the potential for it) doesn't phase them and they can move from person to person and help them. We need people whose smile and joyfulness is a weapon that can pierce through cynicism and mistrust, and we lost someone fucking armed to the teeth.

Things have been feeling a lot better lately. I’ve almost been feeling complacent, and comfortable, and far enough removed from grief to not feel sad all the time. When I heard about someone who was basically the embodiment of a warm hug killing themself, it set me back a bit as a reminder of the struggles of our community. While my initial response to Si’s passing may have been incorrect and tantamount to a coincidence, I won’t soon forget that it is indicative of how we exist: they’re not killing us as often any more, now they’re just applying pressure until we snap one way or the other. It’s still happening, even in cities we basically own, and it needs to stop.

Don’t just be unapologetically you, fight like hell against anyone who tries to tell you you can’t: you don’t have to maintain space for people who want to bring you down. Take a stance against shaming whether it’s a fem boy, a bottom, a slut, a pup, a diaper boy, an artist, a socially awkward weirdo, a disabled person, someone living their heritage, someone who can’t afford nice clothes … be there to smile when they are being supportive, but don’t ever let someone trick you into thinking you need to tolerate their bullshit. Everyone does better off when we support each other, but support is a mutual endeavor and we need to not let people build themselves up on the backs of others. We’re a small piece of the pie, but people from outside our community have been using us as punching bags to work out their own feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt, and it’s still fucking a lot of people up.

It’s easy to feel complacent when you feel progress, but if you take a look at the mental health issues that are still prevalent as a result of heteronormative pressure you’ll see there’s still a lot to be angry about. For those of us in big cities it’s especially easy; we forge our own communities where we feel loved and accepted, and we’re very far removed from signs of the damage that is still going on. We may not even realize some of our own community members are carrying scars, and that for them small signs of rejection may feel to them like it did where they came from; feeling accepted after a life of rejection only to have it pulled out from under them. We need to smile and have joy and even mourn, but don’t forget for a second the anger you should feel from their treatment of us. When the most common first thought upon hearing of an untimely death in your community isn’t to wonder if it was an accident but rather to wonder if it was either suicide or drugs, there is a problem … and it just so happens that this problem isn’t of our own making.

Expressive vs. Regressive Pups
6 June 2017 | 5:49 pm

While being regarded as a pup is fairly new for me (it actually still catches me off-guard when people refer to me as one), I’ve still hovered around the pup scene for quite some time. I think the reason it originally didn’t resonate with me had less to do with pup play specifically and more to do with a disinterest in power exchange at the time I was introduced to it. As my desire to explore power exchange dynamics began to delve into dehumanization, suddenly it made a lot of sense both conceptually and in practice.

One of the things I like most about the pup community is that there is such a healthy attitude about how people handle things differently. There are plenty of approaches regarding how to train pups, fairly different headspaces, and even a wide array handler/pup dynamics. While I truly do believe the community is very open to these differences, visibility is still an important part of teaching diversity and some ways of pupping are innately bound to overshadow others. I feel like social moshes are the part of the scene that will naturally have more presence, and they’ve left things feeling somewhat one-sided for newcomers. Events like On Leash are a great step towards remedying this, but to make greater strides education is important as well.

Despite how varied many of the nuances of these relationships are, they primarily seem (to me) to fall under two distinct categories. The first, and most common, version is actually somewhat closer to how pups from the furry fandom approach pup play: the headspace is tantamount to a persona, usually one the individual strongly identifies with. The second, which is firmly rooted in the traditional pet play found in BDSM, is based on stripping away certain aspects and behaviors that make someone human. Both “core” approaches are equally valid, but they tend to resonate with different individuals. I’ve been calling them “expressive pups” and “regressive pups” for some time, and I wanted to talk about some of the key differences a bit.

Expressive pups: these are what has become the bread-and-butter of the pup community, and their dynamics that emphasize fluidity can confuse or even frustrate those accustomed to structures that favor rigidity - hence the pushback from some leatherfolk. They see being a pup as a part of their identity as a whole, and are often not shy about sharing this part of themselves with others. Expressive pups tend to enter headspaces of varying depths depending on circumstance, ranging from casually barking at people/pups to reflexively curling their hands into paws or similar physicality to a full-on, tunnel-visioned romping headspace. Their ability to express themselves as pups so flexibly and openly is largely what is responsible for the community’s explosion, and their ability to have a varied depth of headspace lets them engage more actively in human socialization. Many expressive pups have little to no interest in sexual activities while in headspace and they may be prone to romp and play purely as a social endeavor.

Regressive pups: much less visible, regressive pups tend to rely on reinforced dynamics to access their headspace. While expressive pups may use power exchange for training or within the context of a pack dynamic, regressive pups tend to be purely based on power exchange as a means of enforcing behavior. Rather than having a pervasive, puplike personality that bleeds into many aspects of their character, being a pup to them is more apt to represent a deliberate denial of personhood. Essentially, a regressive pup may be closer to a gimp-like headspace than a boy-like one, which may entail a further diminishing of agency. With their behavior being sculpted by rules and expectations instead of expressing themselves in varying degrees, regressive pups are less likely to be able to (or desire to) access hybridized headspaces. One of the challenges for these pups gaining visibility is that a substantial motivating factor for this sort of play may in fact be the somewhat stricter denial of human-to-human social interaction within the context of these scenes.

It’s worth noting that both sorts of pups need somewhat different sorts of handlers. Expressive pups are likely to need a primarily nurturing handler that is prone to encouragement and positive reinforcement. Depending on the pup, this may be a side of themselves they have been repressing for a substantial portion of their life; unearthing a part of themselves that deeply buried usually takes making someone feel good about it. Regressive pups may need a stern approach, potentially rooted in corporal punishment or timely correction. Since a regressive pup’s motivation is having their identity stripped away, their immediate desires may often be in conflict with the demands of the dynamic, making the need for discipline more prevalent.

I guess what I really wanted to get at is I’ve heard from a lot of pups having trouble finding the sort of play they’re looking for because all they see are expressive pups/handlers - I know a few who have actually left the community over it. While I definitely don’t think the community is engaging in kink-shaming or anything similar for regressive pups, it’s hard to tell people their version of pupping is okay when they don’t see anyone engaging in play the same way that they want to. If you’re a pup who wants this sort of enforced headspace, hang in there: keep having open discussions with handlers and you’ll find one that enjoys the extra rigidity you’re aching for. If you encounter a pup who seems to be interested in this, try to be just as actively supportive as you would for an expressive pup even though you may not see their pup side as often. Most of all - for the love of god - if you see an event that tries to cater to pups who feel this way, keep your mouth shut if it’s not for you: there are more than enough moshes and similar social events. Let the pups who need this structure have it just like they let you have the freedom you enjoy at your mosh.

Dedication and Elitism
17 January 2017 | 5:52 pm

There are some for whom kink is merely an interest, and others for whom it is a passion. While there is nothing wrong with kink being a low priority, progress is seldom won without people willing to sacrifice their time, energy, and even their enjoyment. A community does not simply happen on its own and without proper nurturing it can - and will - wither.

I cannot adequately state how important community is to kink practices. At its most basic value, it allows vetting of potential play partners by means of reputation; even this most rudimentary of functions is invaluable. More substantially, many kinksters have faced ostracization for their interests and being a part of a community helps dial back those feelings of rejection. This comfort results in an environment conducive to experimenting, which is obviously paramount in kink. Having community also allows people to share experiences, not only to aid growth but to protect others from repeating avoidable mistakes. And while it’s not directly related to kink practices, having community still offers a support network for when things go wrong with real life. Even if having a community only served one of these purposes it would be worth sacrifice; with all of these benefits it’s worth dedication.

Growing and sustaining a community truly does take a lot of work, and demands a wide array of people with varied capabilities. This can be as simple as being willing to help with grunt work for an event, as complicated as having the networking skills necessary to bring new people into the fold, or as easy as just showing up places frequently to show support. Every contribution matters, and every person can contribute in a meaningful way, regardless of their skills: what matters is simply the willingness to do so. One of the things I strive for in my daily life (both professional and personal) is ensuring those around me never feel deliberately excluded. I can have a bit of a hot temper sometimes, but the potential of someone feeling unwelcome just for being themself is something I try to avoid at all costs. When a community welcomes everyone, not only does it grant access to useful resources for individuals, it also ensures the community attracts the talent necessary to sustain. If you turn away people for their flaws, you don’t get to see what they can grow into or what they can bring to the table once they decide to give back. It’s not just that this inclusivity is useful, It’s that it’s the right thing to do.

There has recently been a lot of talk about elitism, specifically within the pup community. These arguments have been around for ages in other communities like leather, but CPP’s membership restructure somehow still seems to be stirring up arguments about what inclusivity looks like. So far as I can tell, there seems to be a misunderstanding where people believe inclusivity means “equal treatment” instead of “equal access.” As I said before, community does not build or sustain itself by magic: it is done through hard work and sacrifice. There is always be work to be done and the community will always need to be nourished, meaning active contributions will always be valued; just as a community can wither from neglect, so can recognition. Any individuals seeking such recognition are welcome to seek out the work, bearing in mind simply showing up to support something is an incredibly valuable contribution. It is both unfair and unreasonable to expect the same treatment as those making active contributions should you be unwilling to contribute, yourself.

As I look at the kink community, I see new people coming in all the time. I see cocky assholes come in and become humbled and respectful. I see awkward kids come in and find friends they mesh with, finally getting comfortable. I see people with anxiety slowly learn to manage it through exposure to controlled situations. A good portion of these people even come into the community lacking a single connection to begin with, and they are still taken in despite their flaws. I could not be prouder to be a part of a community that is inclusive enough to accept those with flaws without hesitation, only to make a concerted effort to help with these flaws. Though “elitism” has some strongly negative connotations, it is not an intrinsically negative thing. When, for instance, “elitism” refers to the caliber of person willing to continually give back to the community as I've described, I cannot bring myself to see that elevated status in a negative light. While there are some circles who seek recognition as its own reward, the kink community is overwhelmingly populated by people for whom kink is a passion and who find value in community. Those who see it as a lifestyle understand how difficult the journey can be, and naturally seek to make that journey easier for others in any way they can. Moreover, they are still happy to use their experience and knowledge to benefit those who may be less passionate.

There are two things that come to mind (other than defensiveness) as I hear these accusations of elitism. First, it is perfectly natural - and ideal - for a group to distinguish between those merely interested in something and those who are passionate about it. It is perfectly fine to not be passionate, just as it is to recognize that a shared interest runs deeper; everyone can’t be passionate about everything, and those who <i>are</i> passionate about something deserve to be able to bond over that deeper level of interest. Second, if you feel as though you are being treated as “lesser” due to a perceived lack of passion, find ways to express that passion. Recognition is not deserved without effort, and a community is not there simply to serve you or stroke your ego. We’re all in this together, and we need everyone to do their fair share; if you’re not passionate enough to help, you’re not passionate enough to need recognition or lament a lack of it.

If you are passionate about kink, be patient and be open: there is a place for you, but we all have to carve a little space for ourselves. Find people who share your particular passion and make something of it.


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