A rant that covers a lot of ground- getting things out of the way

This is another, older diary entry, from May '06;

Getting some dirty laundry "out of the way"

Ok, so maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm a freak.

I'm intentionally not posting the source for what's got me railing this morning, as it seems a common enough attitude amongst SOME of the modern leather people I keep stumbling across. No need to publicly shame the women interviewed or who wrote the piece that's got me all riled up, (let's face it, the interviewee in question is doing the best she can to find her own way, and has found her own measure of happiness, I don't begrudge her that.) So I’ll dispense with the descriptions, other than to say the woman who expressed sentiments similar to the following self identifies as a Het leather person, a submissive who was interviewed by another self described "leather chick", "leader" who writes a webpage some other pages syndicate from time to time. Thus I stumbled across the comments I’m about to paraphrase.

When a 'submissive' someone or other makes a statement along the lines of-

"In the mornings I get up and make coffee for (Dom's first name), prepare His breakfast, and serve Him. Once that's out of the way..."

Again, maybe I'm just a fossil, but am I missing something?

If any part of one's 'service', whether that's making and 'serving' breakfast, or the more general morning 'service' one performs to one's (collared in this case) Top/Dom/whatever is merely a thing to "Get out of the way" I guess I’ve got some serious questions.

Any form of 'service' as merely something to get done and over with? Phew- yeek! When did that happen? I must have missed the memo.

As a self described (S/)switch myself, let me be the first to assure all within ‘earshot’, if I'm serving my Sir (I'd never refer to him by his First name in that context!) or any other partner, I'm fully present in the moment, and not looking forward to 'getting that over with'. I'm not suffering through, looking forward to 'me time' at the other end of this crap I have to endure. I’m right there, in that moment, in that doing, and no matter whether it be ‘shit work’ or the most pleasurable duties imaginable, I’m not biding my time. And that is EXACTLY where I wish to be.

Furthermore, as a S/(s)witch, coming at it from the Domme side, if any 'submissive' comes to my life and my space with that kind of outlook, they've no business being mine. Period.

It’s the Leather equivalent of the vanilla, “Beige, I think I’m paint the ceiling beige” whist lying upon one’s back and ‘thinking of England’.

As should be clear by now, I'm not in any way saying this kind of ‘get it over and done with’ attitude is unique to the Het leather scene, just that that's where I've found much much more of it. I can only assume that perhaps some of the rigors of Queer Leather life, and some of the risks we face (by our mere existence) as Leather Queers shape us a bit differently. Our rare spaces are all the more valuable in that they are rare. Incredibly so for Leatherwomyn. Our ability to sexually be who we are is a hard fought battle, not something to try on for size, or 'play' with.

When I came to Leather, it was the 'work', Tools, not toys. As there was always risk not merely involved, but at the forefront of our minds, this was nothing one took lightly. Perhaps we came to our Leather identities despite the risks, as we could no longer live in ways that denied our deepest selves, it was compelling to live out that truth, and was not confined to bedroom behaviours, it was who and what we were. Certainly some in the Het scene live this too, but for others, I grow concerned. Drive, Passion, and the demand to let our truth live out our lives sometimes seems absent. And yes, that absence can also be apparent in the Queer crowd.

Still, it takes a certain something to find the hidden places on the bad side of town, show that you are worthy of an invite, and show that willingness to learn, and can and will behave properly when you finally reach that dimly lit Shangri-la. These are acts of need, and it is a vetting process of sorts, something unimaginable to those who look for the next munch on the local leather calendar and show up having read ‘the books’ and thinking they know, and thus don’t need to sit quietly and watch. ‘Net know’ is worlds apart from knowing. Knowing comes borne of risk and threat, and trust and honour. Consequences were always just around the next corner. And in an age when communications were so incredibly different, finding a kindred spirit was a rare and wondrous thing, never to be taken for granted.

Yeah, and no doubt we walked uphill both ways through a foot of snow to and from the Leatherspace.

Well some did, but they did so before my time, so I was fortunate enough to be able to walk in their footprints. Some in today's 'scene' deny there ever were footprints, much less that there could possibly be any value or worth in following such. For all the lip service the Leather Archives gets in Het-land, I don't see the same understanding of it from Het Leatherpeople.

So here I sit, a Bi, S/(s)witch Leatherwomyn, collared to her Sir. Confused yet? I'm not. I know exactly where I stand.

Unfortunately, where I stand is outside many structures, and with this further devaluing (my judgement, my journal, my opinion- deal) I keep running across, I feel distant and often repulsed by what passes for today's Leatherculture. And I'm not the only one. Other folks who have been around for a while, some may notice, are not 'around' so much anymore. And that's a damn shame, considering that as this devaluing continues to slide, people who remember ways it 'used to be' are in many ways more in demand than ever. The constant drumbeat for 'leaders' for 'mentors' and this odd fascination with romanticized notions and mythologies of 'old guard' are all just expressions of yearning. Yearning to be a part of a tradition, to know you're not alone, others have tread this path before, and that yes, since S/m has many genuine risks to it, both technical and societal, you're not completely alone out there working 'without a net'. To both good and ill, this then gains expression through both institutionalization and shared notions of 'common rules' which in some cases were never intended to be such.

Take, for example, a (somewhat changing) set of rules that were scrawled off for play parties at science fiction conventions (back in the day). These were specifically designed for the kinds of venues they would be used in, and among that particular subset of the broader 'scene' for the duration of certain specific events- cons. Yet over time, as many Het couples got their first in person introduction to the scene by way of those parties, when they began throwing their own parties, the rules migrated along with them. Few revisions were made to suit the new venues and subsets of the community, instead, the hastily scrawled off rules became regarded as community norms. It's not dissimilar to a game of telephone, played out in fetishwear. The 'rules' which were never THE RULES, became THE RULES to the exclusion of all else. What people miss is that THE RULES were jotted down, perhaps on something as simple as a napkin back over a meal with friends. They were written by people looking at a situation- one which had certain legal parameters.

The idea of other people coming up with other guidelines that more aptly fit their circumstances has become verboten, as now messing with the 'sacred texts' has become tantamount to stepping beyond the parameters of community standards. It's weird as hell to watch recent marketing slogans that we aimed at external, non-kinky culture like "safe, sane, and consensual" become not only THE LAW, but also something many now demand we hold one another, internal to Leatherculture to- always forgetting that some of us were Leatherfolk, tormenting pretty girls long before their precious LAW had even been dreamed up.

So what does this all have to do with little miss 'once that's over with'? Something's getting lost. Or maybe it already got lost.

Call it gut, but something has been lost, when I now watch people writing online about how you must NEVER play with anyone who 'manipulates you', or makes you feel 'out of control'. I don't even recognize this new 'leather' scene. Some of us just find such notions outright laughable. Feeling, ‘manipulated’ or ‘out of control’ may not merely be the hottest and wettest for some people, it may well be THE POINT!

So the 'mentors' new Leather craves so desperately just stop showing up to events. In part, because we don't need flogging 101 for the 150th time. But also for the deeper reasons, we simply have no idea how to function in a world where 'submissives' expect their 'Dommes' to e-mail them a week before the 'date' with an outline, detailing every aspect of what a 'scene' will look like, so the 'subbie' in question can shop around to get exactly what they want. (Real example here folks.)

Another reason some of us are disappearing is a simple logistical one. I may be collared by a man, but that does not mean we are a Het couple, and when I choose to be with a womyn, I'm immediately written off as being contaminated by the man in my life. There are few spaces that accept the realities of the fluidity of some of our sexualities. Simplistic breakdowns by gender or by what sex or gender one's partner may be, or may be playing don't work for some of us. And we need spaces that reflect those realities.

As an artist, I sometimes talk about ‘art that needs an manual’, if it takes 300 pages to explain it to the average person, mostly written in ‘art-speak-ese’, my guess is the piece has failed to communicate. (Hah! Get a load of the length of this diary!) Venues for Leather communities can likewise, fail under the weight of the manuals required to sort out the who’s who and who’s doing what, and what do we think of that? This is some of why many elders have retreated into Leather families, Leather houses, and private clubs, most Leather scene-sters will never even realize are there. We don’t want manuals or to have to ask permission to love who and how we do, not from the outside world, and doubly so from whatever passes for our chosen ‘community’.

The stark realities of pre-net and post-net Leatherpeople and our cultural ‘norms’, sometimes feel insurmountable. Ultimately, it’s a loss to both, those recent, and those elders. Despite the divisions, both real and artificial, we need one another. That is the real travesty here. To people like myself “Leather service” alongside “once that's out of the way..." are simply unimaginable. But my guess is, the Leatherworld I inhabit may be equally unfathomable to the woman in question. Yes we each have found our happinesses. But when the interweave of generations in a shared culture (if we still have one) is torn, the loss is great. Thus I find myself talking with two sets of friends- would be mentors bemoan their lack of ability to find someone to pass on their skills, history, traditions and knowledge to, and those young in Leather, bemoaning their inability to find voices of experience.

To restore some of our voices to the 'community' the 'bad' news (for some) is that some venues (not all) are going to have be a bit more complicated- places where you won't be able to tell what's going on by merely looking as visual cues like gender or even preconceptions. 'Scorecards' may practically become 'necessary', (as if they weren’t already? Fear not, I'm only joking, most of already have our hands quite full, thank you!)The 'good' news, though, is that if there are spaces in which we can be ourselves, I'm guessing some folks would gladly come back. We too feel a desire to pass on our knowledge, Some feel drawn to being ‘voices of the old ways’, yet feel stifled by rigid compartmentalized subsets of 'community' in terms of spaces and what they feel they can comfortably say and do. No I’m not talking merely spaces friendly to genders in different arrangements, I’m talking about spaces in which not adhering to the magic incantation ‘safe sane and consensual’ is not grounds for gathering up the villagers, lighting torches, and a mob making its way up toward the strange dark house on the hill where the ‘monster’ lives.

The other good news, is that for some of us, this is Leather is our lives, it's damn real, and we don't live anywhere where getting any of this, even a single moment of it 'out of the way' ever crosses our minds, mid-service or otherwise.