Does it matter why someone is kinky? Are the reasons important? In some circumstances, can ignorance be bliss?
Miss Margo recently put up a post that got me thinking about these questions. The post itself is a complex one and touches a lot of issues. It’s not my intent to try and unpack it or even respond directly to it. There’s just a single section that I want to use as a jumping off point. It concerns a client of hers named Mel. As a child he was physically abused by his father, and as an adult he now roleplays very heavy corporal scenes as an authority figure to Margo’s errant child. In talking about that childhood abuse, the following exchange happened…
Mel tilted his head to the side, considering, and then said the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard come out of a client’s mouth: “It’s not like it screwed me up or anything.”
I almost started laughing–it was clearly a joke. I waited for him to laugh, but he didn’t.
He wasn’t kidding.
Yeah, that was an instant classic. I kept my mouth shut because I didn’t want to offend him, but I wanted to ask, Buddy, do you SEE WHERE YOU ARE? You are compulsive enough to act out the same scenario, over and over again, at the expense of many thousands of dollars, for your entire adult life.
I think most people, both kinky and not, would respond the same way as Margo (although perhaps without the same restraint). The childhood trauma certainly did seem to screw him up and to be re-enacting it without that awareness doesn’t come across as a healthy action. But then it got me thinking about my friend Sal, who I just made up. He’s a nice guy, very competent, friendly, and happens to like exactly the same roleplay and activities that Mel enjoys. The only difference between him and Mel, besides the minor detail of Sal not existing, is that he has no idea why he enjoys what he does. He had a happy childhood with no physical abuse. He’s just kinky and, like a lot of kinksters out there, he gets upset when I tell him he’s screwed up. “Paltego,” he’ll never say to me, “you like women sticking needles in your nipples, electrocuting your genitals and pissing on you. So who’s the messed up one here?”
Now obviously I know I’m completely healthy and normal. Sal seems to be as well. But what about Mel? If he likes exactly the same things as Sal, can he be screwed up? Does the reason matter if they’re both now in the same place?
Given this is just a thought experiment, we can push it a step further. Let’s assume all kinky people can be ‘cured’ via therapy or drugs. Should we treat Mel? If he came to his current state because of abuse, it seems right to treat it. But then what about Sal? They’re different in background, but both identical in their current kinky activities. Can we say Mel should be treated but Sal shouldn’t? What if they’re both happy the way they are?
Alternatively, we can flip it around. Let’s say we know for sure that kink is a sexual trait set at birth. Your later life only influences how it ultimately manifests itself. In this case Mel was always going to end up involved in BDSM. The only thing his father did was to direct his interest, not create it. Is he still messed up? If we can trace Mel’s influences but not Sal’s, does that matter? And if Sal has ended up liking the same activities without the traumatic background, what does that tell us about how we’re influenced?
These are obviously all rhetorical questions. I’ve no idea what the answers are. From Margo’s description it doesn’t seem that Mel is using his play to work through issues or address the trauma. He’s simply letting it inform his sexual life, which seems messed up. Yet, why should those of us with no clear reason for our interests somehow get a free pass? Is my desire to be beaten somehow healthier because I’ve no idea why I like it?
Given the theme of Mel’s sessions, a corporal focused image seemed to be the right one to use. Obviously this is femdom rather than maledom. I found it on the Hommage to Dominatrixes tumblr. I’m afraid I don’t know the original source.
It’s a fascinating question. Perhaps I want to think myself far more self-aware than Mel and laugh at his foolishness. I may be just as bad though.
I can’t pretend that most of the time it’s not just the kink that’s appealing, but my dominant wife and I have agreed it’s okay to ‘indulge’ ourselves as long as it’s not a 24/7 thing and it’s a journey that we’re on. And I think we have learnt about ourselves and each other. Still can’t get a psychiatrists note for it, though.
You know, one of the legacies of being a person with a history of childhood abuse is that I can look forward to a lifetime of people treating me like damaged goods, speculating about my ability to be a good parent, hold a job, refrain from violence, or, in kinkland, engage in the kind of sex I find thrilling in a healthy way.
If Mel feels fine about what he’s doing, and with his clothes on is a solid citizen with a job, then I think we should do something really radical: let’s trust him to know what’s best for him.
When people ask me if I think it’s weird that I’m into kink given my own history, I tell them: you know, it’s really completely different — I mean, you can’t safeword on real violence, for one thing.
You know that joke about playing the country-western record backwards? Your mama gets out of jail, your truck starts working, and your dog comes back to life. BDSM is like that — you start out with violence, but you end up with an orgasm and cuddles, and the whole time, you’re in charge.
If Mel wants to play the old sad song backwards and end up in a happier place, more power to him. (Or less power, if that’s what floats his boat! ;->)
I’m with Lily. If Mel’s childhood abuse is not preventing him from living a fulfilling life and he is not taking out his abuse on those around him, then yes, “more power to him.”
For the others, if our kink is not damaging others, can the old adage, if it feels good, do it, apply?
I think all of us can get caught up in the comparables; we begin to compare ourselves with someone else and often times that leads to a judgemental statement that sounds a little like, “I’m better than ______.”
The times I find myself there, I have to realize there are more fingers pointing back at me than I have pointing out at someone else.
HI PALTEGO!!!
Thanks for the very flattering reference!
Boy oh boy, have I ever given this one a lot of thought! And I think you are to be commended to tackling tough issues like this (Mel vs. Sal), especially when we all know “society” is often ready to pathologize sadomasochism/bdsm.
Here’s my take on Mel: he’s a decent individual and a contributing member of society whose sexuality is informed–significantly–by the abuse he endured at the hands of his father.
When he re-enacts these scenarios with Pros, is it healthy…? Probably not.
But the only person he’s harming is himself.
And if he enjoys himself…who’s he harming…? His sexuality is abnormal (because it IS, statistically speaking) and inconvenient (because it’s VERY expensive).
Mel is messed up. But as long as he’s keeping Mrs. Mel happy in the sack, and not hitting anyone without their express permission (INCLUDING HIS KIDS!), then, well, it doesn’t matter.
My analyst would say that in session, Mel experiences triumph over his trauma, and mastery. The threat is de-fanged.
Anyway, getting back to the questions in your post…I myself do not believe that kink is set at birth. I think homosexuality is genetic and hereditary. Not kink. There is no kinky gene. Lol.
It took me a long time to figure out why I am this way. Now, I understand. The crucial question now is: is my desire for power dichotomy in sexuality–and, especially, my attraction towards sadists–gratified at the expense of my other emotional needs…?
That’s when deviant sexuality becomes problematical: consequences. Is your sexuality fucking up your life? Preventing you from having meaningful relationships? If so, maybe it’s “sick.”
If not–and for Mel, it doesn’t seem to be–then…well, it’s okay.
Sorry, this comment is discursive.
P.S. Great comment, Lily!
I’m not sure I think the fact that Mel pays for sex is necessarily dysfunctional. (I should probably clarify here that I support sex workers’ rights and feel that sex work should be safe and legal).
Unlike Mel, I can get pretty much as many play partners as I want for a huge variety of kinks for free…because I’m female and I enjoy men.
On the other hand, in my professional field I can reasonably expect to be paid less than a man.
So the end result is the same: Mel and I both have less money in our pocket over our lifetime — many thousands of dollars less.
But does that mean that my attraction to my chosen field is dysfunctional? Or that society is dysfunctional?
The fact that Mel pays for sex, and that I get paid less for the same day’s work isn’t about us: it’s about society’s dysfunction.
But Mel doesn’t pay for sex…! (At least, not in the traditional sense of the word.)
Ah, okay. I misinterpreted this: “And if he enjoys himself…who’s he harming…? His sexuality is abnormal (because it IS, statistically speaking) and inconvenient (because it’s VERY expensive).” Sorry.
Thanks everyone for the thoughtful comments to date on this post. It’s a big complex area, so I’m not going to try and follow-up with detailed responses. This is more my random grab bag of thoughts….
I personally think the paying or not paying aspect is a red herring. Expense is a relative concept. The young paltego would find the way the older paltego spends his money ridiculous. Provided someone is covering the basics (rent, bills, food) then I think where the rest goes doesn’t mean much. I’m sure some people would say my restaurant bills indicate a messed up set of priorities 🙂
I probably did a bad job in the post structure if it came across that I was questioning if Mel should session or not. Or if the question of messed up or not was the key one. One of the main things I was trying to get at was – “Are people who have no idea why they do what they do in any position to question?” That’s often seen as the healthy/normal perspective (I’m just naturally like this), but is it? I like strange stuff (arguably weirder than Mel) for no reason that I’m aware of. Isn’t that pretty messed up?
The interesting thing about Mel was what seemed to be the very clear correlation between early trauma and his current sexuality. That was mainly why I picked up on Margo’s original post. It got away from the question of how trauma may or may not have affected his kink (which is often a really tricky and sensitive one), and got more into the question of does it matter?
Finally, on the nature/nurture thing, I’m not sure I have a strong opinion on which is the bigger influence when it comes to kink. I wanted to raise them both here to show it might not matter. If it’s nature then he was always going to be kinky. And if it’s nurture then we’re back to the issue of someone who can trace their influence against someone (me and Sal) who can’t. Can we say one is better or worse? Should I be in therapy to try and figure out what Mel already knows? Although in this case it seems he might not actually realize 🙂
-paltego
What amazing comments. The question posed is something that comes up so often when discussing my work or the desire for kink and many of you have made excellent points.
The only bit I would like to comment on is the expense: “And if he enjoys himself…who’s he harming…? His sexuality is abnormal (because it IS, statistically speaking) and inconvenient (because it’s VERY expensive).” Granted Professional Dominants are expensive, but those of us who have invested the time, education, and joy into our work are worth it. We know what we are doing, can work within limitations and budgets, genuinely care about the sessions and the outcome, and will not kill or seriously maim our clients.
However, therapists are also expensive. Even those who have invested thousands of dollars in their education, countless hours on continuing education, and genuinely care about their sessions are most often going to leave clients feeling like something is wrong with them. Maybe there is. Technically, no one is normal. Most “good” therapists cost $150-250 per hour and will “need” to see the patient 1-2 times a week until they can “get to the root” of the problem. This root exploration can take years, decades, and the root may never be found.
Suddenly, the Professional Dominant starts to sound like a reasonable alternative. I would like to note that I am not suggesting that sessions with a Pro-Dom are therapy. Sometimes we are better off not making a big deal out of our peculiar sexualities. Society does enough to put us down and keep us in tidy little boxes. We need not do that to ourselves.
My 2 pennies,
Lady Lydia
ps. Pro-Doms can also find the “root” in a matter of seconds.