On purely subjective delineations

Been meaning to write here for a couple of days now, since Tuesday actually.

Monday night was very special for us.

I've been being very careful with my fresh piercings, giving them the ongoing cleaning attention, but not unnecessary attention (i.e. fiddling with them, which would only increase the odds of infection.) And generally taking time to heal.

Which is not to say I'm completely healed by any means, just that I've been being careful and taking good care of myself. While I know new piercings can have their ups and downs, these have gone incredibly well so far.

Yes, I know I haven't even really written the REAL post about getting pierced yet. I suppose I'll get there eventually.

In any case, Monday night the rational part of my brain was saying that so long as we went gently (and used a condom and water based lube) and stopped or eased up if I was experiencing any pain, then sex should be alright by now, my body was 'feeling up to it'. On the other hand, the less than rational part of my brain was inevitably screaming "SEX! NOW!"

So late Monday night, we fell into bed together.

Naturally, Sir was also being cautious and careful, but I was not merely 'doing fine', I was well, discovering what sex with rings through my labia felt like. (As, was he.)

At times, it felt the way sex without rings feels like. But then at other times, I was AWARE. Not in a bad or painful way at all, just in a 'very paying attention to my body' kind of way.

I've no idea whether it was the addition of the new hardware, the feeling of being so completely His, or 'merely' the intervening roughly month and a half without penetrative sex with a partner, whether it was any one of the above, or a combination of several that led to me cumming so quickly. All I know is that afterwards I felt very happy.

And very close to him in ways I hadn't before we had the rings placed through me.

Sure, that part is all subjective and psychological on my part. No argument there. But if part of the reason to do such is the psychological changes that occur, well I consider that valid reason enough.

Non-kinky people may not feel they understand that. But if they've ever constructed a purely subjective delineation betwixt sex inside or external to marriage they've probably felt something similar.

As has often been said, the strongest of the sex organs is the one between your two ears.

Winter Fetish Fair Fleamarket XXX

So the Flea is over, and we've headed on.

It had its moments, both good and well, to be perfectly frank, rather pathetic.

In the positive column; , stumbling across an old friend, spending a few brief minutes in the bullwhip lounge, interesting discussions between Sir and I sparked by workshops we went to, silk, flax, and hemp ropes, a new singletail, and even some new leather, (for later, that I've not earned yet), and a major 'plus', Providence, Rhode Island and the hotels, convention center, etc.

A good hotel experience can go a long way towards serving as a bulwark against not such good parts of an event. Providence itself was also a real win, and doubly so in light of the Fetish Fair Flea's previous experiences in Massachusetts.

By way of a middle column, somewhere between positives and negatives, or more accurately as a mix of both, we were fortunate enough to be able to attend all three of Midori's workshops; "Asian Rituals for Western Lovers", "Bondage Outside the Box", and "Make 'em Blush, Make 'em Squirm: Erotic Humiliation Play". All three were useful in terms of some of the conversations Sir and I ended up having, both good and bad.

But part of the real 'mixed bag'-ness of the three workshops was the 'massive herd' mentality that led to long lines to get in, tons of people, and naturally, the settings the workshops were in provided very few seats that actually afforded full views of what was going on. Thus, most audience members heard the presentations but could not see much of what was happening. Such could have been avoided in several ways, but for each of the three workshops, the same scenario played out.

In the negative column; certain aspects of some of the presentations, Some of the ways 'pros' were just woven through the event (in not so good ways), poorly woven whip handles, and I suppose my personal 'low' award for the event- a presenter who couldn't be bothered to show up on time for her own workshop due to... broken nails and an emergency quest for a manicurist. This from a woman whose website says, and I quote "don't waste my time", perhaps she might consider taking her own advice. (I've no qualms about naming names, as the workshop and presenter was publicly available on the FFF XXX website- "Mistress LunaSea")

Now I've seen everything. Suffice it to say, we felt no need to 'bottom' to her by waiting around to see whether or not she'd show up- so in the end I've no idea whether any form of the workshop managed to go forward or not, if it did, it went forward late and without us.

No presenter should ever need be tracked down by the event organizers AFTER the time their workshop was due to start, only to be reminded they had a workshop. D'oh. No, I wasn't impressed.

Sir and I also intentionally wandered into the 101 style "BDSM for beginners" for a number of reasons, not the least of which being trying to understand the 'intake path' many of today's newcomers are experiencing. (By way of readily admitting my own biases here, I've taught 101 workshops in the past.) I may or may not eventually get to writing about such, but for the time being, simply consider this another tidbit we both felt best deserved the negative column- and unfortunately the ramifications of such will continue to echo forward. More so still, in that this particular presentation has been an entry point for people in many times and places.

If I sound cynical and somewhat jaded, it's only because in some ways, I most certainly am.

On the other hand, as we somehow almost always seem to, Sir and I still managed to make some very high quality "us" time, which makes even broken nail absurdity somehow not only bearable, but something I'm just able to dismiss as the pathetic current state of affairs in some corners of 'The Scene'.

While I'm still glad I went, I am not sure I'd feel the need to return in the near future. That may be more a reflection of where Sir and I stand, though. The workshops we attended in many ways felt very 'beginner', and most of what was available at the market itself were things, and often dealers that in our travels we had seen over and over. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but for us, either visiting the brick and mortar stores when possible, or using online ordering takes care of most of what we would want from such.

Fortunately, though, there was the happy exception or two. I spend time at marketplaces like this looking for the unique, the unusual, and the custom. Radiance Bound for example was doing some lovely metallic work, very appropriate to formal Leather occasions, and some of Madame Butterfly's handmade silk rope came home with us.

The final thing to note about the FFF is that for 'outsiders' (those from out of New England for example), there is no main dungeon or 'play party' as part of the event, so what goes on, usually happens via pre-existing loose networks of friends or NE Leather organizations in private spaces. Without an 'in', you'll have to resort to a private evening in your own hotel room.

While this was absolutely fine for Sir and I (and yes, had we wanted to attend a party, that could have been arranged, we were not interested in such, this time, anyway) other people may find the 'barriers to entry' a bit high. It would be better to get to know people and build ties to organizations prior to the event if gaining an invitation to a party is important to you.



*** Addendum- there was an article Sunday in the Providence Journal- "Sex-Toy Trade Show Sports a Global Face".

I'm not altogether sure quite what I make of the article's angle, the 'sex toy biz'/"trade show", but apparently that was how the Journal understood the event. Clearly, they missed the fact that while the shopping is a major part of the event, what with being in the name and all, the real action had little to do with vendors. Most participants spent time in workshops or in hotel rooms practicing said newly acquired skills.

To simplify the flea down to a story about the American vs. Chinese sex toy industry and label the event a 'trade show' was just, well bizarro-world, though it certainly says a great deal about how 'outsiders' sometimes see us or comprehend us.

Rings!

So I'm VERY happily wearing new rings in new piercings at the moment.

Sir's rings, holes in relation to Sir. Over a decade in the timing.

I am deeply honoured.

(No folks, this is not the real post about the piercings, it's more of just a placeholder until I get there, but friends wanted to know.)

Inner labia, not my outer, thanks to my anatomy- but all things considered, it's a good thing- less pain, shorter healing time, the jewelry I wanted, far less likely to migrate and lose the piercings, all good reasons.

I now wear two twelve gauge 3/8" implant grade surgical steel captive bead rings.

Yes, it was painful- very painful.

But the experience itself was more than even I had hoped for. I'm incredibly glad I did it where I did with who I did it with- it made all the difference. (I'll get there in the real post.)

Most importantly though, when it was all over, and we were home, and Sir was tucking me into bed, he said the thing I had been waiting to hear-

"I felt like I was very much a part of it, like a participant in it."

Which was not only very important to me, it also reflected the way I felt about him having been there with me- this was about US, and fortunately, that was exactly the way it worked out, very US.

It was the coming to fruition of a lot of things we have both been working towards for a very long time now. When we finally came to it, everything just 'came together'. Thing is, I can't decide whether it was worth the wait, or something we should have done years ago. Either way, the actually doing of it, I wouldn't have done differently. It was in the end, simply right.

Thank you Sir!

Wuzzle!

Piercings

In less than 48 hours, if all goes according to plan, I'll be wearing two new rings through me. And yes, I can barely contain the slightly nervous excitement.

This has been a long time coming, more than a decade, in fact.

Until now every 'modification' I've done to my body has been in relation to me, myself. I have a previous piercing, done over the Stonewall 25 celebration in New York at the National Leather Conference, by Gauntlet New York. And that is a story unto itself. I had both done very specifically for me, and purely about me.

For a number of years, even as Sir and I were first getting together, I wore a Red Tiger's Eye bead in my pierce, and that stone was in relation to Herself. But on Sir and my first trip to San Francisco, all those years ago, the stone was given to the Pacific near the Golden Gate Bridge (in part because I had no way to return it to her at the time.)

But I'm a little ahead of myself. In San Francisco, we went to Gauntlet (SF), and had the old ring and stone taken out and replaced by a new ring with a Fire Opal captive bead- (an 'engagement ring' of sorts, though I didn't realize it at the time,) from my Sir, which I wear to this day. Then we drove up above the Golden Gate, released the tiger's eye to the Pacific, and it was then that he proposed to me. Now, going on 11 years later, we are not married, we're both deeply conflicted about the institution as such, but for us, the commitment to one another, and desire to be together was what mattered far more than whether or not a ritual was forthcoming.

So the Fire Opal ring, in my clit hood piercing holds a lot of meaning to me. That hood piercing has held symbols or tokens from two of what are arguably three of the most important people in my life. But the hole itself was about me, and was done at a particular moment in my own life.

I've never had holes put through me in relation to another person, and now that's about to change.

These two new holes and rings, will be specifically about Sir. Symbolizing his ownership and control as we move into our second decade together. For the first time in my life I chose to wear these in relation to my partner. For both of us, this is a very large step.

We've been talking about piercings and rings for more than a decade. I even have a previous set of jewelry from ten years ago, that's been sitting. I don't know if those particular rings will ever be worn or not, but our intent has been there for a long time.

I suppose you could say we had a lot of work to do before we could finally get to this point.

If all goes according to plan, these two will be the first of ten through my outer labia. Getting to all ten will take some years. We may space the piercings out even further as each pair of piercings is going to mean some 'down time' an immediate period without that form of sex, and a longer time meaning no baths! (Argh!) Healing each is going to take many months, and then of course, we're going to want some time to enjoy before we start the next pair.

So Monday marks the beginning of a long process.

On one hand I can't wait, on the other, I'm nervous, and needle phobic and no fan of pain without some real warm up first, but this is what it's going to take, and I want Sir's rings. So I'll do what I must.

After my 'Stonewall piercing' my dear friend took me out, along with a hoard of other Leatherfolk to South Street Seaport to find and share some 'flights' of excellent ports. After a rowdy and dreamy evening, we were swept along home in a taxi, across the Brooklyn Bridge under a beautiful moon, off to a brownstone in Park Slope. Getting up three flights of stairs have never felt so amazing in my life.

I know Monday I will be 'flying' too. Sir will care for me, and let me soar all the way home as we leave on our road trip not long after the appointment. All I need to do is sit quietly in the front seat, and let Sir take me home. His.

Seeing Herself

To begin with, it's sometimes funny what I consider 'personal'. I can write a post about being flogged, but when it comes to writing this, I pause. Perhaps in part because she'll be reading it, but also in that, well, in some ways, it's personal.

But this is blogging my little leather life, or so I claim, and to avoid writing this would be, well, a rather serious "sin" of omission, in no small part because it is what is a very serious part of my 'now', and in part because it's also part of my Leather 'then' as well.

I'm not going to attempt to write any version of the story of us here, at least not now. Suffice it to say, Herself (which sometimes should be more aptly written herself), is what I'll use here to refer to the womyn who was, for a time, my wife. A time that came to a close almost as soon as it began. Not by my decision, but by hers.

We've been apart for over 11 years now, and for all but the last few months, been completely out of contact. Which is its own long story that, no, I'm not going to write here either. She knows, and I know, and that's what matters here.

So we have been back in contact for less than a year now, almost entirely via e-mail, with one phone call, on her Birthday. It was the first time I had heard her voice in well, forever; lifetimes, relationships, marriages.

Clearly, we each have our own 'nows'. I, to my own surprise, have been steadfastly with Sir, and she has had her own relationships and entanglements and disentanglements with both people and the State in relation to such. I've left my beloved midwest to return to the general area near where she and I spent our years together. She on the other hand has left her beloved here to return to a place that she in some ways feels is not hers. Over time, though, my here, or more specifically Sir's here, has become such a part of me that this is my home now. He chose this place and I agreed to come to him.

So now, all these many years later, she has pined for a specific Yule gift from me- the ability to see me once again.

There is of course, much more to it than simply she and I coming to our own end. There was another person, and much pain, and much unnecessary pain, and interference that kept us from even being able to communicate, much less draw things to any kind of civilized close at the time. All of which, of course, is my far too polite way of saying bad things happened, bad things far beyond the control of the two of us. Not that she (or realy either of us) is some form of innocent party in the course of all of this, just in that many things happened that had nothing to do with anything either of us would have wanted or had any control over.

So she has asked to see me.

Naturally, this had lead to a great deal of introspection on my part.

There is the person she once was, and there is the person she is now, and there is everything in between. And there is the person I once was, the person I am now, and everything in between. Mainly though, there is time in between, and more than a decade, much of which was spent not knowing if she was alive or dead.

More than my wife, I placed my collar around her lovely neck, and called her my own.

My obligations to her, to that, did not end at the edge of our time together. A collar is a lifelong commitment for me.

So I have chewed upon this request of hers for some time now. Sir and I have spoken, and pondered, and worked through and through and through this. Oddly, it turns out he may be more comfortable with such than I am.

In the end, despite everything, or perhaps due to everything, I have come out to 'yes, but on my own terms'. That is all I can give.

Our Fetish Flea trip will, at one point take us near her, and come January, for one afternoon, she and I will finally come face to face, a culmination of so much. More than words can begin, really.

I suppose you can see now why I couldn't not at least give this its due. This is my now. And seeing her will be, well, no, not blogworthy, simply a significant, (hell, momentous) occasion, to me anyway.

I walk into this not knowing what I will do. We may cry, laugh, be awkward with one another, prattle on unceasingly, scream at each other, come around to some strange version of restoring the friendship that was there so long before we even came together, or walk out, perhaps never to see one another again. I don't know.

All I know is that in this, I can't deny her her request.

And that is all tangled in with Leather ideas of responsibility, and loyalty, and honour, along with deep sadness, betrayal, and even still smouldering anger.

Mostly, though, I've missed her.

And I'm so damn glad she's not dead.

Caning

So last night.

Which actually began somewhat earlier on, as Sir slid His leather collar around my neck and locked it. This was followed by several hours of running about doing the things I ordinarily do in the course of any ordinary day.

Yes, we COULD have spent the evening decorating the Yule tree. Instead, we decided to fit in some "us" time, as the next few weeks are going to be very hectic, and we should steal away what little pockets of unhurried time we can when we can. If nothing else, "us" time is a very healthy way of mitigating holiday related stresses.

So early (for us, anyway) in the evening we headed upstairs. Not long thereafter he had me secured across the bed in a happy mesh of tools that amount to sort of human 'tinker toy' sprawl; long leather bondage 'mittens' that come up almost to my elbows locked on with shiny little chrome locks, ankle cuffs, leather tethers, spreader bars artfully placed, and a handful of caribineers and clips. Suffice it to say, by the end of his arranging, I wasn't going anywhere.

Once I was little more than a useful target, he selected a few of his favourite whips and 'had at' me. (Herein I'm afraid some of the details blur a bit, but happily so.) I do however, clearly remember the sharp cutting sting of the horsehair, and the jarring THUDs of the big black Moose flogger. Fortunately, there was little I could do other than 'take it', and enjoy it immensely.

Eventually, he set the floggers aside and I encouraged him to fetch a particular slapper/crop as marks were what he seemed intent upon, and that particular tool provides a great amount of precision and control. This led to its own fun (but regrettably, no marks the following day.)

But then, in a fit of being wildly unpredictable, his hand settled upon one of the bamboo canes. This was new. He's used artificial canes on me before, delrin, and lexan, but some of the pieces I've been picking up recently, rattan and bamboo, no, he hadn't used those on me before.

(Sure I've had bamboo and rattan close at hand for quite some time now, but recently I've been picking up some more, flexible rattan canes, and a lovely little whisk of birch, which I thank my lucky stars hadn't been soaked the half hour before, last night.)

So he let me see what I was in for, the bamboo, and I yelped, honestly, completely innocently

"But, ... those are for GIRLS!...

Oh, wait...!"

(The space between the two broken sentences was the time it took for me to come to my own frightening realization; 'I'M A GIRL! Eeeek!')

Honestly, I didn't see the connection- until of course, I did.

Ah, the many joys of being a S/switch and picking up toys for some later use, only to eep! find them used upon me when I expect it least.

Sir is nothing if not devious.

So this resulted in me being released, bent over the edge of the bed, and playing human target as Sir got the feel of new tools. (Lest anyone worry, Sir has damn good aim, and had certainly picked these up before using them upon me.) At the time, the pain was exactly the pain of a good 'first time out with a new tool' caning, the sensation so unique to caning; a sharpness, then the moments of feeling the blow moving deep under the skin, and then the pain 'blooming' slowly after each stroke.

None of the strokes were so hard as to actually leave a mark that lasted through 'til this morning, but I certainly had that tender/bruised feeling long after. Caning provides a certain sense of clarity, and being fully in the moment that few other tools give. Timing is everything, and giving each stroke the time it takes to develop and for me to process it creates a rhythm.

Eventually, we agreed to end with three solid strokes, which expanded quite happily into five.

Now for some people, these kinds of activities form a sort of foreplay, which leads into sex. For other people, doing such may be the point in and of itself, and therefore sex becomes irrelevant to such altogether.

Sometimes we find ourselves fitting under that latter category wherein the work is the work and sex just is extraneous to what we're doing. Usually, though, Sir and I do what we do, and extend that power and control and pain and ownership into our sex at some point in the course of what we're doing.

So while still very much in the state of mind I was in, Sir rubbed my (sadly more temporary than I would have liked) red marks and that lead into hard rough sex.

Later he tucked me into bed, got out some of the shall we say, more 'internal' tools (cold stainless steel to be specific), and spent a bit of time touching me before he finally left me to drift off to sleep.

I suppose this last bit is important to note in that there is a very real possibility that there will be some new piercings in the very near future, and obviously, fresh piercings require a certain gentleness that (happily) last night lacked.

This time of year for most ""visions of sugar plums dance(d) in their heads." For me? Well, I suppose you could say I'm dreaming of a pierced Yuletide.

No S/switches allowed

(I'll probably do several BRXX posts, this is one of them)

'Flashback' to Snoopy from Peanuts, confronted with a 'no dogs allowed' sign.

Yeah, like that.

Or the archetypal boys clubhouse with the 'no girls allowed' sign posted on the side.

Yeah, like that.

There are days when I'm just so sick of this shit.

No, I'm not going to be able to say all I'd like to, because much of what goes on in spaces like BRXX, even things like the schedule or who presented what are tucked behind the wall of the members area. (See the public schedule and list of presenters. This is all you got unless you registered.) But I'm going to speak somewhat generally about what I've had enough of.

In the workshops, one segment was geared towards "submissives", and another towards "switches" (apparently dominants didn't get a space of their own on the schedule.)

In the end, I attended neither of them, partially out of being told I wasn't welcome at one, but primarily out of disgust.

(I'm at a difficulty here, as I cannot quote the program/descriptions in full, to give full context. I don't like that, but basically, by the nature of the event itself, they've made it unnecessarily difficult to write what really needs to be said here. Most events at least post a list of workshop descriptions and who will be presenting them publicly, with BRXX it was all behind the wall of paid registration. Even the dungeon rules were behind the wall of registration, which made making the decision about whether or not to even attend in the first place tricky, as you don't know what exactly you're agreeing to until after you've registered. Certainly made me raise eyebrows at their notions of 'consent'. In essence, you don't know exactly what it is you're agreeing to be bound to until AFTER you've registered.)

The S/switches roundtable was listed as discussing various issues regarding switching and "misconceptions" about switches.

The submissives roundtable on the other hand was explicitly labeled as only for those who identify as "slave, sub, or bottom only"..."Sorry no tops or switches allowed".

So let's review-

* No space set aside for Dominants

* A space dealing with the topic of switching, more a discussion about switching and dealing with misconceptions about it, open to anyone far as I could tell.

* And finally (paraphrasing here) a "submissives only" kind of space, for an internal dialog amongst those who identify as purely that end of the 'spectrum'.

This is somewhat problematic from where I sit for lots of reasons.

Among other things, it means that someone who uses the word "submissive" to self identify EVEN IF THEY DECIDED THEY WERE SUBMISSIVE LAST WEEK/EVEN IF THEY HAVE NO EXPERIENCE IN THE REAL WORLD WHATSOEVER is allowed into the sub room, even as someone like me, who has spent the past 11 years in service, collared, living our version of 24-7, and wearing a locked on 'permanent' 'collar' of sorts about my wrist for the last year and half or so can't.

In my day to day existence I self-identify most clearly as Sir's property. But apparently my 'contaminating' S/switch influence would somehow infect their submissive "safe space". Yeah, this is a problem.

This is a problem in that in much of Queer Leather culture, anyway, Sirs and Masters usually began as slaves. One usually didn't tend to spring forth fully formed, a MASTER with whip in hand, at least not if one hoped to be recognized as such by a broader community. Nope, you began in service. Learning skills, being mentored, earning your leathers, and eventually in time with the support of those around you, and with community recognition of where one was headed, you transitioned into a position at the other end of the spectrum. At least, that was the (Queer) Leather community I once knew.

So any notion of a 'safe space' set apart from any tinge of dominance- brought in either by "tops" (to use their word) or "switches" is laughable from where I sit- or at least (possibly) an extremely heterocentrist view of things.

Both of which are made all the more ironic in light of the fact that person/'presenter' running the submissives' roundtable is not het identified and has made a living off being labeled/self labeling as "Old Guard". (A term in and of itself blog worthy.) One might think that this presenter would be uniquely qualified to undermine such assumptions about everyone in a room of 'slaves' would intrinsically evermore REMAIN on the 'slave' end of things, but no. Apparently not.

Saddest part of all this? By hanging the 'no switches allowed!' sign out, they turn away a wealth of experience and to put it bluntly insight. Yes, at times some insights born of having experience both ends of the whip, which leads to it's own understandings and explorations of empathy. But also the experiences and insights of those who have lived as 'slave, sub or bottom'.

And to be sure, I can't have been the only S/switch too discouraged and disgusted to even set foot in the place. That said, how prey tell, did they intend to ensure their 'pure zone' in the first place? I mean, what, asking everyone walking in the door 'you're not a ~SWITCH!~ are you?' DNA tests? Some kink equivalent of Kinsey scales to be filled out while connected to polygraphs? The mind boggles.

The main thing I walk away from this particular incident with a feeling of sadness. Sadness that the voices of those who have 'been there' and might actually have meaningful, perhaps even useful things to say are once again shut out out of prejudice. Our years of experiences are once again swept aside out of fear that a S/switch might somehow damage the intended 'purity' of a space. And that's everyone's loss. It's a community loss.

I wrote about that community loss back here, saying

"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."

Prejudice, specifically in this instance against S/switches is (one example of) exactly the kind of thing keeping these two sets of people apart. And I know we as a (much broader) 'community' could do better.

On a more personal note, the other side effect of what I carry away from this whole experience? The presenter running the submissives' space was one of the swaying reasons I had decided to go to BRXX in the first place, I wanted a chance to hear said presenter speak.

Worse, due to scheduling, the submissives' roundtable, (yes, something I was actually looking forward to- until I saw I was being told get the hell out) was going to be the only chance during the weekend to actually see anything they were presenting.

Now, on the back end of it, I feel no need to go out of my way to see this particular presenter at all. At some point, if it's convenient to me, at an event I'm already at, I may sit in- somewhere I'm allowed, if only to see firsthand what the hell went this wrong.

I slept in instead of going to the switch's segment. They weren't going to be gathering a mob with pitchforks and torches, ready to storm the castle (i.e. the 'submissives only space,) and educating ME about the misconceptions about S/switches ain't exactly the problem here. (Although the presenter for the submissives' roundtable probably belonged there more than they'll ever know.)

And I wasn't allowed in the submissives' roundtable, so that was that.

I went to a good 'how to' sort of workshop instead.

As a self identified Radical Feminist, can I understand the value in 'womyn only spaces' and similar? Yes. The feminist community went through its own, yet different version of this in terms of Lesbian only spaces and the 'contaminating influences' of heterosexual womyn.

The difference here is that some S/switches do live in their day to day as submissives, slaves, and bottoms, whereas heterosexual womyn don't in their day to day lives live as those who sleep with womyn- although some of us Bisexual Womyn do. Bisexuals like S/switches go through precisely this kind of being ostracised. Being both Bi and Switch, I can't help but feel like I've been here before.

I've fought these battles before. And damn it, while we get to learn over and over and over from everyone else's mistakes, those fucking us over never seem to learn. As I said, I'm sick of it.

Unfortunately, this can't be confined to just 'oh it was one presenter'. This was systemic in terms of Black Rose allowing the creation of such a space within its event. Glancing over the other workshops, this barring of people, even people who often identify as the very group the workshop was about stands out as rather unique. (Yes, ageplay- adults acting as "littles"- spaces often bar other adults entering without a "little" with them, but the adults in this senario are not people who sometimes self identify as "littles".)

I can understand asking Dominants not to attend, (or perhaps not participate in) a discussion by submissives for submissives about submission (although in watching they could potentially learn a great deal). But to tell S/switches, many of whom live our day to day lives primarily on the submissive end of things to 'get out and stay out' is just, well, bullshit. And Black Rose OKed that.

Had I been able to go, I would not have been there to discuss 'profound observations from the handle end of the whip'- those would have been off topic and out of place, it was simply neither the time nor the place for such. As a sometimes workshop moderator myself I can understand how easy it can be for someone to sidetrack a discussion, but rather than barring us premptively as a class, instead give us the chance, and then if there's a problem deal with individual behaviour (hint, this is where moderators MODERATE! Facilitators FACILITATE, and get back on track), don't deal with such by excluding a class of people.

Had I been allowed in, I would have been there to discuss the things submissives discuss. Believe it or not, just because I'm a S/swtich that doesn't mean I'm incapable of staying on topic.

And I sure as hell would not have been there to 'scope out the subs' for later hunting purposes. Although if that was the moderator's fear, barring S/switches isn't going to do a thing about the other 'sub/slave/bottoms' in the room who decide later that they're more interested in being the Dominant/Master/Top. In short people's identity often changes through time, and no amount of prejudice against people who self identify with a certain label is going to 'protect' anyone from someone else who once sat next to them in a workshop coming back at some later date with a different self identity or a different set of realizations about their identity or experiences under the belt.

So I guess you could say part of my Black Rose XX experience was in being told in no uncertain terms, from the organizational level down that I was unwelcome in one of the very spaces I was particularly interested in going to. I don't think most other attendees had that experience.

The sad things is it's ultimately a community loss.

I'm not saying this was my primary experience of the event, just that it was an important one, and one that left an impression.

I hope other people running events in the future will keep such in mind in their own planning.