I rolled the dice on 30 days of kinky blogging and this was my subject, so here we go.
Ok, no, seriously. I am not the local town fetishist, obviously there is some covering going on. I think the best strategy here is explaining exactly why I shield parts of myself from a large part of the world. The first part, unsurprisingly, is my public image. This, for me, is different than maybe a lot of people. I am a wordsmith, an artist, a performer. And while I can not boast Tom Cruise levels of fame, I have appeared on tv, I have appeared in the newspaper, I have done stage performances. My private works get little recognition, but I am also a spokesperson for people living in poverty. That is what gets me these opportunities to speak to a large, sometimes nationwide audience about an important topic.
This is not something I take lightly. I try my best to make every opportunity, every word count. There is a certain image I want to present on behalf of the people I speak for. People living in poverty are often blamed for their plight. there is the image that they are lazy, or stupid, or addicted to stuff. So I want to display the image of someone making all the right choices, and still being poor. Someone who's not addicted, not involved in crimes or gangs, no tattoos or wild piercings, well spoken, clean, and trying his heart out. In order to drive the point home that there's plenty of good people out there who are victims of poverty. To drill the image into people's heads that the system is broken, not the people.
Now, what would I achieve by adding kink to that image, by adding another controversial dimension to an already controversial debate? It may be unrelated, but when speaking truth to power, and you're actually making waves, any argument is an arrow in their quiver. Any weakness can be exploited, any character flaw can be used to discredit what you say. Does kink make my voice less valuable or my observations less true? We know it doesn't, but they will spin it in a way that labels me as mentally ill. Making kink acceptable is another war that needs to be fought, but not at the cost of other battles. So I won't give them the tools to distract from what I'm there to talk about.
Another reason, and I have talked about this in other posts, is people don't want to know. For those who haven't seen the story yet, here it is. A couple of years ago I wrote a little autobiography about my life from birth to adulthood. I would periodically send chapters to friends, and people who expressed an interest in my life and writing. A part of this was the "hidden chapter". A chapter alluded to in the main chapters, but available only on demand. This chapter was about my sexual awakening, my discovery of kink, and the intertwining of pain and pleasure. The illusion of the dichotomy between submission and freedom.
In this chapter I opened up with a content warning, and a safety net. If people chose to read it, and later decided it was too much information, they got the option to pretend it never happened. I promised I would never bring it up again until they told me they were comfortable with it. If they weren't, I would simply pretend it never existed at all. Out of 25 readers, only 3 requested the hidden chapter, and only one ever mentioned it again. Out of 25 people, only one chose to acknowledge the existence my kinky side.
From this I conclude that a lot of people don't want to see their friends in a sexual light. They don't want to talk about it, think about it, understand it. And they are allowed that decision. While I would love a world where sex and kink are discussed openly, we aren't there yet. And by forcing the issue, I'm not solving it. So I keep it away from all but a willing and initiated audience. Not out of shame, but out of respect for their limits.
So this was the story about why I keep my kink in a box. I hope you enjoyed it.
How open am I about my kinks?
Very.Ok, no, seriously. I am not the local town fetishist, obviously there is some covering going on. I think the best strategy here is explaining exactly why I shield parts of myself from a large part of the world. The first part, unsurprisingly, is my public image. This, for me, is different than maybe a lot of people. I am a wordsmith, an artist, a performer. And while I can not boast Tom Cruise levels of fame, I have appeared on tv, I have appeared in the newspaper, I have done stage performances. My private works get little recognition, but I am also a spokesperson for people living in poverty. That is what gets me these opportunities to speak to a large, sometimes nationwide audience about an important topic.
This is not something I take lightly. I try my best to make every opportunity, every word count. There is a certain image I want to present on behalf of the people I speak for. People living in poverty are often blamed for their plight. there is the image that they are lazy, or stupid, or addicted to stuff. So I want to display the image of someone making all the right choices, and still being poor. Someone who's not addicted, not involved in crimes or gangs, no tattoos or wild piercings, well spoken, clean, and trying his heart out. In order to drive the point home that there's plenty of good people out there who are victims of poverty. To drill the image into people's heads that the system is broken, not the people.
Now, what would I achieve by adding kink to that image, by adding another controversial dimension to an already controversial debate? It may be unrelated, but when speaking truth to power, and you're actually making waves, any argument is an arrow in their quiver. Any weakness can be exploited, any character flaw can be used to discredit what you say. Does kink make my voice less valuable or my observations less true? We know it doesn't, but they will spin it in a way that labels me as mentally ill. Making kink acceptable is another war that needs to be fought, but not at the cost of other battles. So I won't give them the tools to distract from what I'm there to talk about.
Another reason, and I have talked about this in other posts, is people don't want to know. For those who haven't seen the story yet, here it is. A couple of years ago I wrote a little autobiography about my life from birth to adulthood. I would periodically send chapters to friends, and people who expressed an interest in my life and writing. A part of this was the "hidden chapter". A chapter alluded to in the main chapters, but available only on demand. This chapter was about my sexual awakening, my discovery of kink, and the intertwining of pain and pleasure. The illusion of the dichotomy between submission and freedom.
In this chapter I opened up with a content warning, and a safety net. If people chose to read it, and later decided it was too much information, they got the option to pretend it never happened. I promised I would never bring it up again until they told me they were comfortable with it. If they weren't, I would simply pretend it never existed at all. Out of 25 readers, only 3 requested the hidden chapter, and only one ever mentioned it again. Out of 25 people, only one chose to acknowledge the existence my kinky side.
From this I conclude that a lot of people don't want to see their friends in a sexual light. They don't want to talk about it, think about it, understand it. And they are allowed that decision. While I would love a world where sex and kink are discussed openly, we aren't there yet. And by forcing the issue, I'm not solving it. So I keep it away from all but a willing and initiated audience. Not out of shame, but out of respect for their limits.
So this was the story about why I keep my kink in a box. I hope you enjoyed it.
