Graphic by Shay Suban
Content Warning: Mentions of rape
I find that stories of sexuality rarely begin at the start. Instead, they often begin with a realization, a breaking of the bubble, and retrospect floods in from there.
This one begins with innocent little sixth grade me, sitting on her parents’ bed with a 2006 MacBook, exploring the Internet for the first time. Sixth grade me was discovering the world of fan art. The words I typed into the search bar meandered and then grew more specific until I realized what I was really looking for. I edited the next search to say “tied up.”
Retrospect arrived over time. I used to tie up my Barbies. I remember being so disappointed whenever Nancy Drew got knocked out and not physically restrained. My early attempts at writing usually revolved around one or more characters getting tied up at the climax. The idea of someone bound stirred a dark sense of excitement in me, and through the Internet, I learned I was not alone in this.
The name for it was “bondage,” I discovered. It was pretty innocent at first, especially since I was blocked by mature content filters (I was that rare kid who clicked “no” when faced with an “Are you 18+ years old?”). So for a while it was about the vulnerability and suspense, but when I saw a crotch rope for the first time, I knew there was more to it than that.
I caught on quickly to the taboo. Between the sexual aspect (sex was taboo in middle school) and the fact that I’d never heard anyone speak of this, ever (or, later, spoke of it only through innuendo), I knew this was a secret to keep.
As I feigned innocence for the next seven, eight years – perfecting my confused blank stare, pretending not to hear the dumb joke my physics teacher made about tying things up, retreating into the corner of the room whenever the *BDSM test came into conversation – I neglected to wonder why it was taboo to begin with.
In my years of exploring the bondage community, I found that while there were art pieces and stories I genuinely enjoyed, there were others which made me sick to my stomach. The most problematic pieces are the ones that end up being about rape, ranging from outright, obvious, undeniable rape to a more subtle brand of unwilling, reluctant, not-quite-consensual sex. In a game that’s largely about the storytelling, the suspense may be seemingly diluted by consent. When a story admits to being “just a story,” the stakes are lowered, and the audience loses its personal investment in the tale. Personally, though, I’ve realized that in the rare story about consenting adults who then transition into roleplay, I’m just as invested as I would be if the situation were more dire; my conscience, however, is more at ease.
Art and stories containing non-consensual sex are so common in the bondage community, I assumed they were an inherent aspect of bondage and BDSM. There were superficial arguments I used in attempts to ease my own conscience, which involved ignoring the counterarguments I easily came up with.
The use of disclaimers was one of these surface arguments. Artists and writers often add “[insert character name here] is 18+” in order to make their art more okay. Not all contributors do this, however, and the state of being an adult is not the same as consenting. “This is a consenting adult situation” is significantly better, but disappointingly uncommon. Furthermore, some contributors take characters who are canonically under 18 years of age and use this disclaimer to say they have “aged-up” their character, which turns into a gray area of borderline-okay-but- incredibly-sketchy.
Something else I told myself was that if I knew rape was bad, and that I wouldn’t do anything harmful as portrayed in these art pieces, then it was fine. There are so many flaws with this idea. One is that the few audience members who actually do think non-consensual activities are okay become validated by what seems to be a confirmation of such. It becomes a direct propagation of rape culture itself, despite this complacent idea of well-at-least-it-doesn’t-affect-me.
Additionally, even if viewers disagree with the material, if they accept it anyway, they become desensitized to it. Non-consensual activities then seem, if not fully okay, at least more-okay or less-terrible. Which then allows the viewer to theoretically enjoy the material more, becoming still more desensitized to the downsides. I say “theoretically,” though, because this only half-worked for me. I could never fully enjoy this kind of piece; my conscience consistently fought my libido and won.
Okay. That sounds like I’m bragging about my morality. Here’s the reality of it: I’m embarrassed that I ever thought any of this was okay. I regret the fumbling, flimsy DM sent to an Internet friend in an attempt to ease his worries around the moral dilemma of being in the bondage community. I’m ashamed to think that I was willing to forgive rape in order to satisfy my own sexual cravings, and that I was willing to ignore basic logic and morals to do so.
This is why there is a taboo. Those outside the community see or assume that rape culture is an inherent part of bondage and BDSM, whether because they have seen the problematic side of the community or because bondage itself seems like it would be used in rape, and thus that’s what it must be about. (A too-quick assumption? Yes. An easy assumption to make? Also yes.)
But those inside the community have difficulty defending it when the problematic implications are so prevalent, or when they consider how their defense could lead to assumptions about their own character, or when they struggle to reconcile themselves with the subject in the first place.
I know what you’re thinking – “When is she going to talk about Fifty Shades?” E.L. James’s book Fifty Shades of Grey and its sequels and film adaptations have captivated the masses with its (heavily inaccurate) representation of BDSM. What I’m interested in, though, is the BDSM community’s response. Blog posts and articles (search “Why Fifty Shades is an inaccurate portrayal of BDSM” and you’ll find plenty of these) explain in detail what is wrong with the portrayal of BDSM in the novel: in summary, real BDSM centers on consent, on taking care of each other and making sure everyone involved is comfortable and okay.
To me, this illuminates the other side of the bondage community. There is the dark, non- consensual side, but then there is the side that values consent and realizes that mutual trust does not make the activity less enjoyable. This second side is much closer to reality than the fictional fantasies of the Internet seem to suggest. In other words, bondage and BDSM are not inherently problematic – the popular portrayal of them, however, often is.
Lifting the taboo on bondage starts with reversing the misconceptions surrounding it. Much of this responsibility lies on the shoulders of the creators in the bondage community. Creating art and writing about consensual, healthy situations rather than non-consensual ones will promote the positive side of bondage. Again, roleplay can be involved for the sake of creative spin, but consent is key. The fact that characters’ actions are in roleplay should be clear. Other members of the community can help by promoting these artists over ones who continue to create stories of unhealthy situations. And anyone, whether in the community or outside of it, can read about BDSM (real BDSM, not the Fifty Shades version. The articles from the search I suggested earlier are a good start) in order to educate themselves on the topic, enabling them to dispel falsehoods regarding it.
One positive from the popularity of Fifty Shades of Grey was a loosening of the taboo, the start of a more open discourse on BDSM in popular culture. If the public sees that BDSM can be a healthy expression of sexuality, there is less reason for members of the community to hide. And if individuals in the community know that bondage and BDSM are not inherently harmful, then there is much less reason to be ashamed.