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LGBTQ + K: A Case For “Kinky” As A Sexuality

A single rainbow rose, suggests lgbtq kinky sexuality

Because sexuality goes far beyond your gender preference.

“Gay, bi or boring?”, it’s a question posed too often to me.

I’m flummoxed for the words to use here. I’m not gay, I’m married to a man. I’m not bi either, after all, I’ve never bedded a woman. I suppose then that puts me in the bracket of… boring?

I’m almost aghast at the possibility. We probably have enough sex toys in our bedroom by now to be able to own a share of Lovehoney and BDSM is a part of our everyday lives. Maybe there’s not a daily spanking or a ritualistic flogging, but the dynamic at least is ever-present.

To be honest, I couldn’t imagine a day without this in my life and if I’m being completely honest, then neither would I want to. Having this dynamic, this sense of vulnerability and trust that I have with my husband, this relationship gives me an added sense of purpose beyond my “housewife” role. Because of him, I’ve grown in confidence, I’ve exceeded my expectations of myself and found things that even I didn’t know that I could do, that I wouldn’t have tried, had it not been for him.

Smiling at myself dreamily in the mirror, I run my fingers softly over the loose silver bracelet that hangs on my left wrist – my day collar. It’s soft, sweet and subtle, and yet for us, it’s a constant reminder of who and what we are. My husband wears one too, made of onyx and stainless steel beads. Both bracelets were handmade by me.

To the untrained eye, we seem like any other couple, though perhaps more mischievous and playful than some. We mock and tease one another all of the time, with me goading him into… what, exactly? It’s just playful here, or is it?

Particular Tastes

I first became aware of my tastes for more assertive men in my teenage years. It began with a school crush, a young man by the name of Carl. Carl spoke with an air of confidence, he smiled rather than giggled and he was never afraid to strike up a conversation. I was in love with him before I even knew what love was. There were a lot of boys in my school, but none of them were like Carl.

I began writing out the most sordid of fantasies involving Carl. I stashed them away in a hiding place and read them again most nights. If I’d seen Carl earlier in the day then I couldn’t wait to get home to my filthy ideas. I had to imagine what Carl might do with me.

I remember sitting on my bed one day and wondering what on earth was wrong with me. Why this? Why being tied up? Why couldn’t I think of nice fantasies like all of the other women, why not Aladdin or Prince Charming? Why not Ben from A1 or Robbie Williams, why not the nice guys? I was frightened, confused and alone. Maybe, if I just tried hard enough, I could have some normal fantasies too?

It didn’t work. Even if it did, it only worked temporarily because my imagination quickly escalated the ordeal.

Think more normal!

I spent a long time loathing myself. I spent a long time believing that it was wrong to want rough sex, or sex that I didn’t really want, but with and for a man that I truly desired. Even if my fantasies bought me shame, there was no denying that they felt good.

The Missing Piece

I began dating in my college years. I met several young men, several nice young men, all the kinds of men that I was supposed to want. Many of them were sweet and kind, some of them were funny, but there was just one problem – none of them were anything like Carl.

When I’d teased Carl before, he’d laughed with me, he’d play back and I loved that about him. He’d tell me off sometimes too, and my heart would flutter a little bit faster back then. These boys though, they didn’t bite like Carl did. If I teased them, they’d just laugh with me. I needed more than that – much more!

It wasn’t until I finally heard about and understood BDSM that I understood the thoughts that I was having. A sense of relief washed over me – finally, I wasn’t alone. I was confused at first, but at least I had an answer.

Once I knew what I liked, it became a defining point for me. The men and people who understood me could be closer, and those who judged me would soon be forgotten about. It didn’t need to be a key focus in all conversations, just a little bit of understanding, a little bit of common ground.

A Generation Gap

For many people today, “kinky” is at least something that couples do to liven up their sexual repertoire. In the modern era, it is widely accepted as something that is at least performed behind closed doors in homes or at events. Tragically though, not everyone has been so lucky.

In one of the biggest moments to ever rock my family, my relatives had been seen at a local BDSM event and the event had been scandalised in the news. Those in attendance lost relationships and jobs, and others saw threats to their families and homes. 

For my relatives, they came after my brother and me.

Squirrelled away in our bedrooms, my brother and I were none the wiser of the things that were supposed to have happened to us. Our family, who loved us and protected us with every ounce of their being, were now accused of being child abusers and paedophiles. The things that they’d been seen to be involved in were argued as grotesque and their behaviour possibly criminal. It was deemed necessary to protect us “vulnerable children”.

My family fought long and hard to rid themselves of that experience, and they stopped attending events soon after too. Even as I keep writing and promoting for the acceptance of kink as a sexuality though, my relative still worries about my future. So tarnished is her memory by this event that she fears something similar happening to me. 

A Different Kind Of Love

I can remember well the discussion I had that one fateful February. I was completely bamboozled: What do I get my husband for Valentine’s Day? Chocolates, roses and cuddly bears had never been our thing, we did things… Differently. In the end, I settled for a coffee mug that reads “who needs hearts and flowers when you have handcuffs and silver balls?”. For him, there was no better gift.

But BDSM isn’t always about sex. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that probably only 15-20% of our relationship is. The rest comes in that feeling of knowing that he loves me, protects me and cares for me. It comes in the energy that I display when I bounce out of bed to run errands that make his life easier for him. It comes in knowing the pride he has for me in running our blog or the sense of duty that I have as I slink into bed before 2AM each night, all too mindful not to break our rules. For me and I am sure for many other people, none of this is sexual.

So why is it so wrong to be kinky?

LGBTQ+ and kink were represented by the “Mother of Pride” Brenda Howard and yet, compared to the LGBTQ+ community, we get a mere day- the third Friday of every year- to celebrate our kinks and fetishes. Unlike Gay Pride, International Fetish Day is not publicised, it is not promoted and it is certainly not sponsored by national businesses. Even if kinky people too want nothing more for themselves than to be accepted, loved and liberated from oppression, we are still to be stifled away from public view.

In a world where gender-neutral toilets now exist and social media has a “non-binary” option, kinky people are still forced to hide their real identities for fear of discrimination and social media regards our lifestyle as obscene. While many LGBTQIA+ people now enjoy the protections that have been afforded to them through modern laws, many kinky people are still silencing a huge part of their identies for fear of prejudice, this isn’t right, and it isn’t on. There is some suggestion that we had our Stonewall moment in 2011, so ten years later, why has nothing changed?

I want to conclude this post by talking about some of the things that are illegal or immoral if they happen to an LGBTQ+ person, but are perfectly acceptable if they happen to a kinky person. These include:

So the next time you think to judge somebody for being kinky, just stop and think. Perhaps you could be an ally instead?

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