The Courage to Be as We Are
I was hoping to launch some new things this week for Please Kink Responsibly, but, as is often the case, life happened. The content, however, is done … we’re just putting some finishing touches on it. Hopefully you’ll see the results within the next couple of weeks! 🤞🤞🤞
Several years ago, I went to a national kink conference called Thunder in the Mountains1, and attended a class by sex educator, writer, and adult performer Rain DeGray. It was a presentation toward the end of a multi-day conference, and I was so tired after a weekend of stacked scenes that I’m ashamed to say that I can’t remember the subject of her presentation. I want to be clear that the fault is entirely mine and not a commentary on her spectacular presentation style, which was engaging and sincere. But I DO remember quite clearly how she started her presentation.
She said “Can I just say how fucking brave each and every one of you is to be sitting here right now?”
She went on to clarify that she wasn’t referring simply to us being at her presentation, but to the fact that we, as kinksters, had overcome a great deal of shame, risk, and fear in order to engage with our desires and simply show up at a kink conference as we were. She then pointed out how many others never get to engage with their kinks. That acknowledgement really hit me, since – at the time – I had only found “my community” a year or two prior. Despite the fact that I had been actively kinky privately since my 20s, it wasn’t until over 20 years later that I found a public scene that felt supportive, friendly, and ultimately like “home”; a space where I could be authentically myself.
I often find myself returning to Rain DeGray’s words, thinking about just how much courage it takes for people to “show up” at events and engage. I remember being at my first Thunder the year before; feeling somewhat out of place. Despite being adept at kink and power dynamics, being in a public space, among so many other kinksters, made me feel like a high school junior or senior who had just transferred to a new school. I knew my way around in theory, but I didn’t know the nuances. And being in my 40s at the time, I felt that much more self-conscious. Looking back, I definitely overcompensated. But that faded quickly.
After successfully playing in the dungeon (and even getting some oh-so-validating compliments from people who watched my scenes), I was able to relax. I made new friends, and even found a few new play partners and established a good reputation as a kinkster. I was lucky, but I also opened myself up to being comfortable with a little discomfort. I pushed myself to make the most of the opportunities for connection that presented themselves. I found my people and my groove. I know many often don’t.
Rain DeGray’s words also resonate when I encounter people new to the scene at regional and national kink conferences and/or play parties at my local club, and I try to pay that same sense of respect and validation forward. It takes courage to take those first steps; and that’s something we often forget when we’re down on ourselves or things don’t necessarily go as smoothly as we’d like in our kink or polyamory. Sometimes we forget just how much it took for us to get where we are … to simply be as we are.
I think it behooves us all to take a moment to look at how far we’ve come in our individual journeys. Even if you just do kinky things with a single partner, and have never stepped foot in a dungeon, you have already taken that kinky leap of faith. And for those who have made the leap to visit dungeons, bdsm or leather clubs, or have made it to a convention or conference, think back to the first time you ever did, and how nervous you were … yet you did it.
That’s not to say that dungeons, play spaces, kink clubs, or events are perfect. Far from it. There can be plenty of gatekeeping and clique-culture that can easily push people out. I was at a national conference on the east coast in 2023 that was supposed to be the event of the year; but my slave and I found it unwelcoming, filled with in-groups, and devoid of that welcoming joy that (I realize now) we were so spoiled by before. This came to a head at the first banquet/dinner, where the majority of tables were “reserved” for certain groups, with only a few on outermost periphery of the room open to those not affiliated with specific organizations or leather houses2. There was a tragic irony hearing organizers espouse inclusivity as dozens of people were literally marginalized on the outskirts of the space.
All I could think of was “If I were new to the scene, how would this space make me feel?”
I’ve heard a lot of educators and organizers talk about how to make the scene more welcoming for younger kinksters, and more open and diverse. While not a panacea, I think that taking a page out of Rain DeGray’s book and acknowledging the courage of all those who are coming to those tastings nights, or who are attending their first orientation at a local space, can go a long way in making people feel both welcomed and empowered; not to mention the fact that it can carry over into their day-to-day lives. Just think about how energized you feel when you do the scary thing, or do some real “adulting” and make that phone call or book that appointment.
I think that too often we forget about just how much courage it does take to do what we do. Yes, there’s risk (to our health, our privacy, etc.), but speaking aloud your desires to another person and standing in that inexorable, awkward moment of waiting to see if the other person is not JUST into, but enthusiastically into your kinks and desires, is a quintessentially brave act. Add to that the further complexities of race, gender, and socioeconomic status that have silenced and marginalized so many, and we’re into levels of fortitude, persistence, and resilience that few can match.
In the words of David Whyte: “To be courageous is to stay close to the way we are made.”3
We all deserve to be what we are.
Sadly, Thunder folded a few years ago, but it was a huge conference that, most years, took over the entire hotel. A few of the former organizers have found G.o.D.S. (The Guild of Deviated Standards) which has retained much of the spirit (if not the massive size) of Thunder in the Mountains.
It was a stark contrast to other events we had attended where only a few tables were reserved for speakers, contest judges, etc., and all the rest were open. Guests were encouraged to mingle and invite new people to join them. For the record, Mercy and I met so many of our current friends that way!
“Courage.” David Whyte. Consolations. Langley, Washington; Many Rivers Press. 2014.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Please Kink Responsibly to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.