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Home Sex Sexuality as a Social Construct: How I learned to love my kinks (Part 2)

Sexuality as a Social Construct: How I learned to love my kinks (Part 2)

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Written by Miss O   
Monday, 31 March 2008 19:00
Maybe I should blame Catholic school, or maybe it’s the influence of Barbie, or Disney.  Heck, maybe it was all those years of piano lessons.  All I know is that within a month of figuring out how to masturbate, my thirteen year old sexual subconscious was already dreaming up a diverse and detailed fantasy life, filled with lots of bondage and S&M (although I didn’t know what those things were at the time).  

For years before I ever had sex, or even got close to it, I knew I was kinky, and even for the first few years after I started having sex, I felt guilty about it.  As a result, despite my rampantly dirty, tie-me-up-and-spank-me fantasy life, I was kind of vanilla in the sack.  Still, I couldn’t shake the dirty thoughts, and the guilt about what they meant about me. Was I some kind of traitor to the feminist cause?

                  Sex

I’m sure that on some level pop culture helped to shape these themes in my sexual life.  My overprotective parents did a good job of keeping movies and TV with overt sexual themes out of the house, but I still had my fill of fairy tales, and snuck in some MuchMusic whenever I could.  I do know one male dom (the sweetest guy you’ll ever meet) who thinks his kinks developed out of superhero comics…  I just don’t know if the analysis can be that simple.  Somehow, the Disney princesses never managed to fill me with an unrelenting desire for a big froufrou wedding, or any wedding at all really.  Ever since I was a teenager I’ve sworn that I would never, ever get married, so how on earth are those princesses responsible for me being submissive in the bedroom?

The fantastic film, Secretary, does an excellent job of exploring these issues. Lee Holloway (Maggie Gyllenhall) is a recovering cutter, dealing with her messed up family and her first job.  E. Edward Grey (James Spader), her boss, is an uptight, recently divorced lawyer, who probably has a touch of obsessive-compulsive disorder.  Accidentally on purpose, they figure out that they’re both interested in S&M.  Lee is the submissive and Edward is the dominant partner.  They’re also falling in love, and somehow the kinky sex is helping Lee put down the knife, and Edward to loosen up a little.  I won’t spoil the ending for you, but it’s actually kind of sweet; the characters’ involvement in S&M sexual activities actually helps them to overcome their personal psychological troubles. 

I don’t want to play into stereotypes that mental health issues are the root of kinky sex, and I’m not suggesting that everyone should replace their therapist with handcuffs and a blindfold, but having had an eating disorder since I was thirteen, I’ve always understood the connection between the two.  Just like eating disorders have more to do with control than with body image, S&M isn’t about getting off on pain; it’s about testing limits and self-control.

Good S&M requires a partner you can trust, and who is in control of themselves.  It’s a relationship where both partners care about the pleasure the other gets from the act.  Also, I know it’s a bit cliché, but really, the sub is the one who sets the limits, and the dom works within them.  What on the surface looks like the certain power structure is usually just the opposite. Last, but not least, good S&M couples, while they may play power games in the bedroom, treat each other as equals in other aspects of their relationship.  Every game has its limits and boundaries.

I can’t say if it’s the control issues and perfectionism left over from the eating disorder, or if it was what went on back at Barbie’s dream house, but I do know that there is a big difference between fantasy and reality.  I also know that the difference between the two has nothing to do with the negative influence of rap music, video games, daytime soaps or any other piece of pop culture.

I make a conscious choice about which sexual activities I take part in. I don’t see any reason to feel guilty about choices I make to please no one but myself, that hurt no one and do not reflect how my relationships function outside the bedroom.  For me, it is a feminist statement to make decisions about what makes me sexually happy, and to be able to create an environment where I feel safe and free to express myself. 

And for the record I’ve never "let" anyone come on my face.  I ask them to do it.


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© 2008 Miss O; licensee (Cult)ure Magazine.
This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited.

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Author of this article: Miss O

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