The City

It is windy. Very windy. At my left I can see the harbor and the lights from the The City. At my right, the open waters. Right in front of me, I see the Golden Gate Bridge. It is the last evening of a whirlwhind 48 hour short visit to San Francisco, where I travelled after Shibaricon. It feels like I could stand at this spot for the rest of my life. The air, the wind, the sea, the breathing that is possible to do, how every breath fills the lungs with such intense life. It is strangely grounding, a moment in time where everything else stops, except for time itself, as it keeps on getting darker and darker and colder and colder. My trip in the US is coming to an end, and it is here that I’m reminded of the experiences I’ve been lucky enough to have, they move through my mind like flashing images, or a brief reminder of a sensory experience; skin twitching or a muscle aching slightly, remembering the sound of a creaking rope or leather gloves, slowly closing over my mouth.  Not even 2 weeks in the US and it feels like I know who I am again. Like the skin is fits around the body and the mind can distribute itself over the thoughts in an even fashion.

The 48 hours in The City were made possible by two people whom I am honored to have met and eternally grateful for their hospitality; Bus Driver and Pink.  They happened to be two of the first people I met at Shibaricon on the first day, and Bus Driver also helped at one point to spot during a demanding suspension. They, together with other awesome and wonderful people, made the con even better.
In the end of  Shibaricon I was looking for somewhere to go as I would have a couple of extra days before the flight back to Europe, and had thus put up a note on a notice board saying something like Busty Swedish Blonde seeking Bedspace. With a limited budget, crashing at someones’ couch seemed like the best option. Not before long, I was suddenly invited to stay at Bus and Pink, an offer which was impossible to refuse. Said and done, ticket bought and bag packed, leaving O’Hare landing in San Francisco. Slightly dazed and rather confused due to tiredness from Shibaricon but  in the same time on a strange adrenaline high  I made my way through the airport and was met (after getting lost…) by my hosts, and their adorable Peanut.

When visiting people who generously open up their home to a Busty Swedish Blonde they have only met a couple of days earlier, I was hoping intensely for not being one of those annoying guests and pointed out I could be fairly self-sufficient so they would not have to interrupt their day to day life due to the Busty Swedish Blonde. Lets just say that I had no idea they would have none of it, as the following two days I was so well taken care, showed all the sites, taken to the kink-shops, parties, et cetera et cetera. After meeting the housemates, having a good night sleep and taking it slow in the morning, Pink showed all the kink-shops, including  MR S and a visit to Good Vibrations, which was fairly awesome to say at least. During lunch time, we spoke about the kink scene and leather and her and her partners involvement in the community. It is organised on such a different level that would make London look pretty much like a bunch of party obsessed perverts. Which we kind of are, but that is beside the point :). Pink  also showed me the SF Citadel, a great permanent BDSM space which was really huge and well equipped.
I the end I visited Wicked Grounds  more than 3(?) times in less two days, had one great lunch, a huge milkshake and just hanging out. After a quick change of clothes, I was dropped off at Wicked Grounds one more time, waiting for Bus who took me to Bondage a Go-Go (BaGG). Now, if there is something that is awesome, it is to experience different kinds of scenes different parties. I become like a horny sociologist, trying to take in as much as possible. BaGG had a great feeling to it, although I must admit that we spent most of the time in the play area so did not see much of the rest of the club. What I did gather though, was that BaGG managed to fuse a couple of things together which another club in London has tried but not succeeded  in doing: fusing the industrial/goth scene with kink. This was mainly done through the awesome music (as an industrial chick, it was heaven to get to play to so many great tracks). In either case, it was a really great place, with a small albeit very well managed play area.

As I had expressed an interest in Bus’ flogging skills (with Pink  politely pointed out that he is a sadist..) I felt slightly nervous, but also strangely centered as we entered the play area. Was strapped to the cross, and not before long the falls of the floggers started to rain over my back. This was one of those floggings which takes you so far away you are in lala-land. A warm up which was exactly that, not just a short interlude before the ‘real’ thing, but  carefully tempered and ministered. And it was the tempo and the sensations that got me;  florentine flogging at its best, moving with the music, but also creating music on its own; syncopations, emphasised beats, the sounds coming out from my mouth all of a sudden. It is like letting bodies do the talking, instead of the vocal chords it is the warm skin, the muscles, the un-planned guttural sounds, goose-bumps, the breathing, the pulse, skin involuntarily twitching, the back arching, moving away from but still drawn towards the pain. You simply don’t want it to end, but it always does. Something which was very special during many of the experiences in the US was that it felt ok taking time. Taking time sitting down and talk properly for a starter, but also, when in that state of bliss after play, it could take the time it took. Not always, but sometimes, it feels like I has to get myself together in a orderly fashion not too long after the play has finished, especially at parties (not on the private parties, but regular ones). But here I was, in lala land but also sitting at the floor, with Bus assuring me there was all the time in the world. Everything was like it was wrapped up in cotton, even the music was muted. And sitting there, at the floor, was like the most natural place to be in. It became a reminder to the self; to stay present in the moment. Around us, there were others playing, and the passion and skill people showed made my warm body feel even warmer.

A while later, when having landed, there was this little itch; I needed to tie someone. Was introduced to a lovely lass and we spoke a bit. She felt like playing, and I was borrowed a suspension ring. We set up, first rope is out of the bag, heart pounding already. People are busy chatting, standing next to the playspace with drinks, dancing. The suddenly, there is a stronger light and a voice announcing that a guest from abroad is here to demonstrate some of her rigging skills; and obviously people turn immediately around. For a brief moment I think something like: “SHITFUCKITYOHDEARGODSAVEME”, while pretending like I’m tying something really important behind the lovely girls’ back in order to hide what is probably written all over my face. Then one of those VNV Nation tracks comes on; a steady beat and a baseline,  a deep breath and then go. The adrenaline hits, the light makes it harder to see who is watching, and her body become the only thing that matters. With the adrenaline and the pace of the tying, it is almost like trying to scratch into her, dig deeply, removing layer after layer. It is not really pretty the rope, off centre and unbalanced, but god damn, it is so fun. Encasing her in a cocoon of rope and then just physical rope and bodies in motion; toying with her mind, moving in like an attack, forcing her off balance; a fistful of hair, her neck exposed. As the wham bam adrenaline wears off, I want to continue with the rope but with a less barrage of the senses, so the untying takes place on the floor, while sitting down, the rope is warm and so is her body, resting my cheek against her shoulder, controlling every movement, pushing her with my chest, adding tension rather than removing it even if the ropes are coming off. The last wrap around her wrists comes off; we have both forgot everything about the crowd. The evening continues, with more awesomeness, and when we walk back to the car, it feels like being wrapped up in cotton.

On the second day, I get showed around a very special and interesting place; my jaw dropping for each and every door that was opened. Suffice to say, I did not think about anything else than what horrible acts could be committed or was being committed. Those really abject, filthy, degrading, sadistic…..see, it is even hard to type anything about it!
Pink then fetched me and showed the touristy things, including Lombard street. We also found some sushi, and dear me, that sushi was basically perfect. Also walked on the Castro, which felt strangely touching. All this queer history and activism, the significance really struck, especially when visiting a LGBT-history museum. I am so grateful for those who paved the way, who fought back and stood their ground.

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That evening then finished with a visit to view the scenery described in the beginning of this post but also biting someone very cute in a dark parking lot.

I would like to thank Pink and Bus Driver who made the visit so unforgettable with your generosity and kindness. There is probably not words enough to express this gratitude, so I’ll just stop waffling.

 

An Army of Lovers Cannot Loose II

Update:

Stacey Blahnik Lee, a transwoman from Philadelphia was found by her boyfriend on Monday, murdered in her apartment. Feministing reports how bad the news coverage was phrased.

The Stonewall riot some 41 years ago kickstarted the gay-rights movement and one of those worthy of remembering is Raymond Castro, who died from stomach cancer recently. During the Stonewall riots;

Castro pushed against the patrol wagon with both feet and knocked the two officers to the ground. He was detained but later released without charge.

When we are speaking of heroes, read this about a school-kid who got his head smashed against the ground 4 times and who is now picketing outside his school to raise awareness.

And last update on this post, but not least; Dan Savage is angry.

I wish I did not have to write these posts. I really wish I did not have to talk about the hate against people who love each other. Serbian Riot Police clashed on Sunday with far-right homophobes and haters that thought they had any business of rejecting the human rights of LGBTQI-people.

This was not an isolated incident.  Not at all. This is not a specific case of severe homophobia that one can only find in Serbia.  And it is also not just one of those public manifestations of homophobia, because there can’t be any distinction here between what is personal and political. Homophobia will always be political, and it can hit you wherever you are.

But I keep going back to these pictures. Pictures of people participating in a Pride celebration that previous years would have not taken place. These gorgeous queers are out and  proud and loud and are fighting, not with the police but for eachother and through activism try to change the world that they live in.

And then there is all of these teenage suicides in the U.S, queers that has been bullied so badly that they have taken their own life.  I cry when I think about all of this. And this youtube-clip is one of the strongest I ever seen.

The It Gets Better project is brilliant and beautiful. And I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what to say right now. Just take some time to watch some of the videos. And don’t forget that you have the right to be angry, you have the right to cry, you have the fucking right to love whom ever you wish to love, and that you are not alone. You are not alone because there is so many people, we are an army of lovers, and an army of lovers cannot loose.

To all LGBTQI sisters, brothers and all of those who wish to be neither- I love you.

Armcandy

 

Gangsters and Molls, by Rolands Revue

 

We are walking down the road, I’m holding his arm and look in front of me. I’m following him, trying to not put too much weight on his arm and being aware of every move I make, listening to the small signals showing me which direction to go. There is people staring. My underwear restrict my movement slightly, make me walk differently, altering my posture, the pearls feels cool against the skin and the tightfitting gloves are perfect, enclosing my hands in a way that make me feel slightly from a different time and a different place.
We are on our way to a friends place and have been prepping during the afternoon and evening. There is something special about what we are doing right now, because Electronic Doll is in drag and doing his gangsterpersonae justice. The wrapping and packing is perfect, and the bulge in his trousers, albeit created with the help of a packing project, makes perfect sense.  And people are staring, and I come to think of all those stories of butch-femme couples that are passing as a straight couple, or all of those butch-femme couples that don’t pass, and it’s not just me who seem to be thinking about this. Electronic Doll seem to be aware of this as well, and we are both reading each other and our environment.

But I guess it is impossible to not flaunt what one got. So I just have to correct my stockings a bit, and he sits slumped back, with that kind of attitude that can just come from really, really good drag. We flirt, giggle, move in and out of characters like chameleons, discuss the potential of chameleons and I point out, as a true jealous girlfriend that I hope there will be no drama during the evening, that he will keep his cock in his trousers, to which he respond that he has never given me any promises what so ever. I know the game is on.
This is not something that I usually do, roleplay with that type of dynamic. I’m not very good at keeping in character, and find that my focus if off, but good god it is fun.

The party is awesome, meeting up with friends I’ve not seen for a while and drinking and chatting and dancing and laughing.  In a moment with some downtime, I sit down in his lap, we talk and then I can’t help but note how he got some lipstick on his mouth. And I explode, I feel angry and fed up and with a sour voice I let him know it.  How he can’t keep his cock in his trousers if he even tried. But he does not like to hear it, and pushing me, and I push back and suddenly we are on our feet fighting and shouting. My heels, the heaps of pearls I’m wearing around my neck, the underwear I’m wearing, all makes it impossible to fight back properly. In no time, I’m pushed against the wall, trying to get away but can’t, Electronic Doll telling me to appologize. And I can’t, my mouth is shut and I continue to struggle, he holds me tighter and there is a little something that breaks me there, but I have no idea what it is. A slight feeling of humiliation, excitement and adrenaline, he let’s me go with the words ‘Go and clean yourself up’. And I can hardly do that either, walking away on shaky legs, with a sense of shame burning on my cheeks.

Slavic Pride in Belarus interrupted by the police

Updates:
Here you can read the account of an activist who was arrested, beaten and humiliated by the Belarussian Policeforce.
Here is another  post, which rightfully shame the lack of media-coverage.

These videos says it all really, but if you want to read more about it, go to this blog and read more.

I visited Belarus in 2005. It was eyeopening, for many reasons. For those of you who are unaware, it is a European Dictatorship, in which people who dissent are punished by jail or worse. A friend of mine died, he was an activist. I don’t want to give any details, but all in all; the Belorussian president Lukashenka got blood on his hands. And the conditions for queers is horrendous.

Please distribute this widely and remember that an army of lovers cannot loose, even when it feels like we are sometimes.

All my love to the brave queers in Belarus. I so badly want to stand next to you. I so badly want this shit to end and for you to live the life you so deserve.

Congratulations to Norway and some other important matters

First of all:

About a year ago, perves in Sweden were not to be considered sick anymore.
Now, it is Norways turn:

The Norwegian Directorate of Health has decided that certain diagnostic codes are now invalid in Norway, thus changing the Norwegian version of the international diagnoses register. (ICD-10)
The following diagnoses are taken out: fetishism, fetishistic transvestism, sadomasochism, multiple disorders of sexual preference, and transvestism.
– In our opinion there is no basis, neither in today’s societal norms nor in professional health thinking, to classify these diagnostic groups as disease, says head of the Health Directorate Bjorn-Inge Larsen. By excluding the use of these codes in Norway the Directorate wishes to contribute to the weakening of a general opinion that certain sexual preferences, sexual identities and gender expressions may be seen as states of illness.

The really interesting article can be found here

Congratulations Norway! The activism has given result, and joined Denmark and Sweden as being countries where you can be a healthy perv.

For those of you who need more proof of how stupidity reigns the world with weird methods, read this excellent wallraff article on how to ‘cure’ gay men. Amongst many things that will make you gay is your (neglecting or too neglecting) parents, Freemasons, sexual abuse or just in general not being in touch with oneself. I’m just telling you, if you had happened to have missed that.
To read more about exgay movement, Ex-gay watch and Beyond Ex-gay is a good place to start.
I also wrote a bit about the possibilities of a cross-over between ex-gay and ex-bdsm and how it could be manifested. That you can read about here.

One writer that always makes me feel something is Penny Red. She writes so eloquently and passionately about politics, feminism and a whole lot more that I go all mushy and sometimes teary-eyed. Writers like her are needed, voices like hers are needed.
Three of her latest pieces resonated strongly within me, one on the misogyny and racism hidden in the debate over the veil , one about trans-activism and also, very appropriately slamming the  Comment is Free-article by Simon Jenkins who is ‘defending‘ the pope (cause that ex-nazi, priest-peadophilia cover-upper needs sooooooo much defending…) in this excellent post ‘Does Simon Jenkins shit in the woods?’

That’s all for now folks.

The Lies about the Ten Lies-part 3

We have Zxenu Cronstrom Beskow onboard as our guestblogger. He examines the radical feminist claims abut ‘lies’ told by BDSMers.

The first part
Second part

Part 3: “Sadomasochism versus Radical Feminist dogma”

If Farley had openly accused sadomasochists of not conforming to the dogmas of her particular brand of radical feminism, then she had been correct. But this is not what she is doing. Instead, she’s exploiting mainstream society’s contempt for BDSM in an attempt to establish her very special discourse as if it was a objective reality or consensus viewpoint. She’s establishing a world view where society itself is “sadomasochistic” and where her own brand of radicalism is the ONLY valid resistance against mainstream society. Lets take a look at the remaining four points.

2. Sadomasochism is love and trust, not domination and annihilation.

Good relationships, sadomasochistic and vanilla (conventional/mainstream) alike, are based on love and trust. Of course, there are also bad relationships. There are also sexual relations that are based on mutual lust rather then love. Such a relationship can still be mutual and non-abusive if it contains enough trust and respect.

Farley’s examples are not even examples, merely shallow propaganda. David Koresh was a destructive religious cult leader, not a sadomasochist. Of course HIS kind of dominance was bad – and so was his heterosexuality and masculinity. If he is being to be used as an example of sadomasochism being bad on a general level, then he can just as well be used as an example of heterosexuality being bad on a general level, or of men being bad on a general level. Then again, there are radical feminists who would agree with that kind of argument.

Farley also uses some sexual fantasies as examples. And indeed, these particular fantasies certainly do not seem loving. Then again, they are fantasies. The love and trust is not about the fantasies themselves, but about how they are handled. Also, there are a lot of sadomasochistic fantasies that are very much about love, and many heterosexual and homosexual fantasies that have nothing to do with love.

4. Sadomasochism is consensual; no one gets hurt if they don’t want to get hurt. No one has died from sadomasochistic “scenes.”

Regardless of her sexuality, a victim of abuse is a victim period, not a masochist. She may or may not ALSO be a masochist, but this is entirely beside the point. By the definitions that sadomasochists typically use, abuse (sadistic or otherwise) is not sadomasochistic. The word sadomasochism include the word masochism, and this word implies that the person on the receiving end is there as a masochist, not as a victim.

Thus, BDSM and sadomasochistic sex can never be abusive, but only in the same way as vanilla lovemaking can never be abusive: If it turns abusive, then it is no longer lovemaking.

Of course, there are many sexual relations – vanilla and BDSM alike – that have started out consensual, but later turned abusive. This is a real problem, but it doesn’t men that all sadists (in the BDSM sense of the word) are abusers, and it does not mean that all heterosexual men are abusers either.

Furthermore, there are people who have died from vanilla lovemaking, so of course there are also people who have died from consensual BDSM play. Heart attacks are a common cause in both cases, but when it comes to advanced forms of BDSM there is also the issue of people being inexperienced and lacking proper safety education. Just as with mainstream sexuality, porn is NOT a good teacher for how to do it in real life. Even in its advanced forms, BDSM can be LESS dangerous then vanilla sex – but only if people know what they are doing.

Deeper in her argument, Farley practically claims that it is impossible to consent to BDSM – that the masochist is a brainwashed victim who does not know what she really want or an addict unable to say no. While a convenient excuse to disqualify the experiences of women who don’t share Farley’s dogma, it is simply not true for masochists in general, regardless of gender. (Farley’s argument seem to assume that the submissive is always female and the dominant is always male.) Of course there are individual masochists and victims of manipulative sadists who fit this stereotype, just like there are destructive vanilla relationships that contain addiction or cultlike tendencies.

6. Sadomasochistic pornography has no relationship to the sadomasochistic society we live in. “If it feels good, go with it.” “We create our own sexuality.”

Mainstream society is most definitely not sadomasochistic in any definition of “sadomasochism” that EITHER the sadomasochists themselves OR the mainstream society would agree with. Farley is taking theoretical constructs of radical feminism for objective reality here.

10. Sadomasochism is political dissent. It is progressive and even “transgressive” in that it breaks the rules of the dominant sexual ideology.

Seen from a non-totalitarian perspective, this statement contains an obvious truth. Although sadomasochism, just like homosexuality, is becoming more and more accepted, it is still far from mainstream.

To deny this, one must reduce reality to two groups. On one side, the one and only true resistance (in this case radical feminists) and on the other side the evil conspiracy and all its minions, including all resistances that do not conform to the orthodoxy of the one and only true resistance.

Of course, this only covers the matter of dissent. Far from all dissent is constructive, progressive or transgressive in any good sense of any such word. If one can reasonably consider BDSM and sadomasochism to be good things depends on your point of view.

In BDSM, dominance and submission is optional and not based on gender. One can be dominant, submissive, both or neither, regardless of whether one is a man, woman, intersexual or a gender-undefined queer-person. Being a dominant doesn’t give you any right to dominate someone who doesn’t want to be dominated by you or in a way that he doesn’t want to be dominated. Being a submissive gives you a right to chose who to submit to, when, how and to what extent.

From a queer-feminist perspective, this is very liberating and a useful tool in the struggle for freedom and diversity. From most other feminist perspective, it is neutral: Neither a good thing and a help, nor a bad thing and a threat.

From a totalitarian conservative or radical feminist perspective however, it is inherently evil. It is, by definition, a lie – Or at least a contradiction in terms. One core belief shared by patriarchal conservatism and radical feminism is that men are, by definition, dominant/oppressive, while women are, again by definition, submissive/oppressed. While the conservatives consider it good and the radical feminists consider it evil, both sides agree that That’s Just The Way It Is. Thus, the dominant women and submissive men of BDSM must be explained away for their worldview to remain intact. And an all-out attack is always the easiest defense.

By Xzenu Cronström Beskow

The author is a  queerfeminist veteran, active both in struggles against sexual abuse and  for the rights of sexual minorities. Xzenu has  academic degrees in psychology and sexology.