am I empowered, degraded, or both?
Two weeks ago, a friend told me that her boyfriend choked her while the two were having a fight. I was really upset for my friend, by this act of violence and violation, and also confused. This same friend has admitted to me that she enjoys being choked in bed. Her story prompted me to think harder about the way that an act like choking can oscillate between spaces of pain/pleasure, consent/force, play/violence, complicating these definitions and boundaries, while possibly challenging notions of feminism.
I’ve since recounted this story to others, listening to their opinions and reactions. Admittedly, I feel unequipped to negotiate and process this alone; my desire for closure is eclipsed by the value of showing people that my friend’s story is linked to larger issues of violence, abuse, pleasure, and ambivalence. This includes my own ambivalence; I consider myself a feminist while also enjoying what I define as rough sex. So am I empowered, degraded, or both? It’s damn hard to tell.
I conducted an informal survey of my peers and friends, including a queer female studying sadomasochism, an East Asian Studies straight male graduate student, a queer female peer health educator involved in the Columbia/Barnard BDSM community, a black feminist who write, engages, and thinks about sex and racialization, a straight white female who had her first sexual experience with a woman, a straight female in a five-year long monogamous relationship, a straight male in said monogamous relationship, a straight female who proclaims a love for rough sex (but absolutely refuses blood play), a straight male writer in a two-plus year long relationship, a gay male in the midst of his first sexual relationship, and finally, my partner, a straight male. All the people I spoke to have been or currently are sexually active. The youngest is 21 years old, the oldest 25. In total, I spoke to ten individuals, often alone and online but sometimes in person and/or in groups. I asked:
What do you define as rough sex?
How do you set boundaries?
Can you be sexy and set boundaries?
Do you define yourself as feminist?
Though everyone gave me varied responses, I noticed consistent patterns emerging from them as a whole.
The first thing that everyone agrees on is that choking a person, no matter when or where, is extremely dangerous and needs to be considered carefully before enacted. My medically trained friend encouraged me to look up some statistics on fatalities in the bedroom via sexual fetishism. I Googled sexual fatalities; the first resource that popped up was a paper on accidental “coital deaths“. The abstract notes that accidental deaths are common and remain unreported, as they are “an unfortunate and embarrassing complication”. I feel like the stigma also relates to the taboo of publicly discussing kinky sex and fetishization. David Carradine, anyone?
The second thing that everyone agrees on is that individuals are entitled to decide for themselves what counts as sexually pleasurable. One gay male friend asserts that
Gay guys enjoy being manhandled!
while a straight male friend believes
Choking a person is psychologically equal to violence… more like a turn off
When I asked if he has or ever will engage in rough play during sex, he said no, absolutely not. My friends’ comments made me realize that for this group, real pressure does not lie in conforming to others’ sexuality but instead in figuring out one’s own preferences and communicating that clearly.
The third thing that everyone agrees on is the need for “a conversation” to happen, despite the difficulty of starting one and defining its exact terms. The black feminist writing her thesis on sex and racialization believes that rather than detracting from sexual excitability, communicating one’s desires sets up a framework of security and control:
so the actual sex becomes much better and therefore sexier
But as another friend astutely notes (and here’s where it gets sticky),
Permission isn’t always premeditated… permission often comes after the fact, even if there’s extensive discussion and planning before engaging in certain behavioral contexts, sexual or otherwise
Suddenly, this made me recall the first few times my partner and I started having sex. Without my permission, he pulled my hair, pinned me down, and used handcuffs. I’ll admit, I was surprised at first, because I’d never engaged in rough play, and we never had a discussion about this. It took time, energy, and sexual comfort to figure out that I like rough play, but I didn’t enter my relationship knowing that I wanted these things. I didn’t have a conversation. It’s troubling to realize that now, because I don’t know what I would have done had I felt violated. (A conversation w/my boyfriend about this is next, and I will post it here!)
The way I see things, violation can occur between the lines of sexual and nonsexual settings (in romantic relationships, casual hookups, flirtation), between premeditation and unexpectedness (rape fantasies, surprise seduction). This doesn’t mean that one should ever stop trying to communicate his or her own do’s and don’ts.
In discussing rough sex, unsurprisingly, no one agreed on what exactly constitutes the act. Some mentioned concrete methods involving handcuffs and spanking. Others got theoretical, discussing its ability to “blur the line between pain and pleasure”. Its meaning got clearer as I asked people to juxtapose rough sex against violence. Nearly everyone agreed on differences of intent:
Rough (consensual) sex is about mutual pleasure; violence is about one person’s assertion of power over another
No one could answer whether enjoying and engaging in rough sex is compatible with American feminist ideology, but I found an article on Heather Corinna’s Scarleteen immensely helpful in dissecting this question. Corinna writes:
I think it’s important to remember that at the heart of feminism is the goal for women to be able to have enjoyment of our lives and the freedom to make our own choices and take our own journeys. We all also get to have our own ideas and opinions about what feminism is or should be: not all feminist women agree that this thing or that is or is not feminist. It’s a movement made of people, and people vary and also adjust our ideas, and thus, the movement itself, as we all go through our own processes.
It’s frustrating to know that there isn’t always a universal, empirical way to categorize rough sex, violence, or consent, but it only drives me further to find answers. Aside from THE LINE Campaign, I’ve discovered resources that tease out so many facets of safe, consensual, kinky sex, a learning process that is both liberating but also confusing. Some resources, like Sinclair Sexsmith’s The Sugarbutch Chronicles, or the work of Ignacio Rivera, and various BDSM groups highlight individuals who think and rethink such issues on a daily basis. My queer friend who is involved in Conversio Virium, Columbia/Barnard’s BDSM Organization, feels like her BDSM peers are the most sexually open and communicative people she’s ever met.
I wonder if, with sexual preferences that are more unconventional and alternative, is it more necessary to be transparent in order to create consent? She brought up “Yes/Maybe/No” lists, in which people imagine different sexual acts and decide their desire to do each one. With all the sexual variety out there, I wouldn’t be surprised if no two lists match up entirely. I also can’t help but wonder if our sexual culture would improve if everyone created these “Yes/Maybe/No” lists.
Could a campaign to let our individual sexual preferences out in the open create alienation and separation, or foster empowerment, solidarity, and understanding?
Tags: assault, communication, consent, feminist, kink, masculinity, pleasure, power, respect, sex
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“Could a campaign to let our individual sexual preferences out in the open create alienation and separation, or foster empowerment, solidarity, and understanding?”
I think the latter is the only consequence that could come out of this – being open about sex and sexuality leads to more openness, through sharing and identification with one another. Every straight and queer couple I’ve known has engaged in SOME form of bdsm, even if they don’t consider it kinky; there seems to be a weird taboo against people referring to themselves as bdsm practitioners, even if they’re already open about their sex lives.
As for feminism’s relation to bdsm, I don’t think that there’s a contradiction in a feminist choosing to engage in it. Being given the choice to make your own sexual decisions and define your own sexuality includes bdsm, which is not necessarily degrading or dangerous. To me, rough sex is anything that includes physical pain or discomfort intersecting with pleasure; boundaries are and should be set verbally, just as boundaries are set in every other aspect of sex and consent. I define myself as a feminist, and believe consent and respect should apply to everything involving sex, including bdsm.
For me there are two important things to note here:
The first is to unpack the connection (or lack thereof) between your friend’s boyfriend choking her during a fight and the two of them engaging in pretty rough sex—the distinction you mention between violence and rough sex is right on and important, and it seems clear to me that choking your partner during a fight—no matter what you do in bed—is objectively violent and wrong. So I understand that the incident was used as a springboard to talk about rough sex, but I just feel compelled to reiterate that whatever your friend likes in bed doesn’t excuse or justify abuse.
The other thing to think about is the issue of permission–pre-mediated and “after the fact.” I think it’s a matter of context. Those of us who work in the anti-sexual violence field spend a lot of time talking about acquiring consent, acquiring consent with each new boundary that is being pushed, etc., and I do firmly believe in that. But there is no set of sexual guidelines that is going to work for everyone, and certainly for sexual partners who are comfortable with each other and long ago established boundaries, the constant check-in might seem a little less dire. Which isn’t to say that if entering new territory they shouldn’t consider having a discussion about it, but there is presumably a level of trust and understanding that casual sexual partners may not have. This should also make it easier for one of them to speak up if they are uncomfortable, because they trust that their partner will understand and respect them.
But for folks who don’t have this established relationship and knowledge of boundaries, the permission “after the fact” makes me uncomfortable. It’s definitely true that there have been times when people have been having sex, one of them did something the other wasn’t expecting, and it all worked out OK! The other person liked it even! However, I—as a big dork—tend to think about it in a cost/benefit way. If you haven’t asked your partner what they are comfortable with and you go ahead and push those boundaries, it is very possible that instead of innocently “taking things to the next level” you are pushing someone who isn’t ready, or even bringing up past trauma. To me, the negative possibilities there outweigh the fun ones.
yes, @Caroline!
I’d also like to throw in the notion of BEING CAREFUL, learn about choking, practice, make sure you’re doing it safely.
Boundary pushing is risky and exhilarating, needs to be trust present, and consent… to echo @Sarah, I’m also a bit uncomfortable with getting permission after the fact… it feels like a very slippery slope. One that can be surprisingly good, or terribly bad.
Yup, @Ronan, verbal consent and no judgments. That’s a great recipe.
[...] fact, in Marilla’s piece on feminism and rough sex at Where is Your Line, Heather Corinna (of Scarleteen) writes: I think it’s important to remember that at the heart [...]
Love this post! I, too, have grappled with a lot of the issues raised in this post. It is easy to potentially have those bangs of guilt when you identify as a feminist but enjoy “rough play” in the bedroom.
I, too, agree that I don’t like the idea of “permission after the fact.” While I must say I can think of some cases where that has happened to me, I wonder what would have happened if I wasn’t okay with it?
In terms of sexual violence (especially college campuses) I feel like the court system is quick to point to a survivor’s behavior after an assault and saying it was “permission after the fact”–whether it was going on dates afterward or working on a project together.
I think it definitely is something that should be avoided as much as possible by having conversations before hand or even asking right then and there. As someone from my school used to say “Asking for consent doesn’t ruin the mood; it just confirms that it’s there.”
Also I am definitely going to do a yes/no/maybe list, I think. It sounds like a great idea and an interesting/fun activity to do with your partner(s).
God, so many responses are coming up for me, and so much that’s been really smartly covered, too.
- A safety thing. Choking can mean a lot of things sexually. (Here’s where I’m going to get a lot more graphic than I usually have on this blog.) Some people hear choking and they think that means, “She wants me to compress her neck until she gasps and cries and passes out.” I’m sure that’s what I thought the first time someone told me they wanted me to choke them (it was a guy). Then we started talking. Okay, what he was really turned on by was more complicated — it was the loss of control as much as the loss of breath as the sensation of having his neck held and pressed. The neck is sexy, so this isn’t a completely huge leap. But cutting off airflow or impeding the passage of blood through the artery in his neck? I didn’t have to be very aggressive about anything that would really hurt him that much in order to find his turn-on.
I guess that’s all to say:
- Communication doesn’t hurt the moment. Yes, it’s a super hot fantasy to imagine that someone knows all of our turn-ons and will just take us right to the edge of what we want, without saying a word. But even in situations where I am lucky enough to have enjoyed that, even when it came out of what felt like nowhere, after the fact, when I went back and asked a partner why he felt like he could be rough with me, he said, “I knew from the first time I touched you.” He knew from the first time we were physical at all — he didn’t go right for my limits, he discovered them bit by bit. But to me, it just felt so natural I had no idea it was even part of our seduction. Now, I can look back and say, Oh, right, when he went for my neck and held it the first time we really made out, that — that was him getting consent for what he imagined could go a lot further.
It wasn’t “permission-after-the-fact” — it was permission so skillfully sought after that didn’t take me out of the moment at all.
But one more time on the safety thing — there is no safe way to choke someone out. There just isn’t. Any pressure that impacts blood or air flow can be possibly deadly. For real. As a former dominatrix I say this — you do not have to hurt yourself in a real way to get off on rough play. There are a lot of possibilities for getting that turn-on, of loss of control, and loss of breath, and being over-powered, that aren’t about getting “choked out” or even close to it. Of all the kinds of rough play to engage in, this is the one to give the most respect to through talk, experimentation, and time.
@Nancy @Melissa Yeah, would the moderator please delete my earlier comment, because I don’t want to imply that choking is safe. being careful, not dying is better.
Context: i’m a 30 year old black man who has shared physical intimacy and sexual play with with men, women and trans people.
I don’t think there is any viable connection between feminism and sexual etiquette. It doesn’t matter whether you feel empowered or degraded; when it comes to sex it matters whether you feel gratification.
I have produced and sustained remarkable bruises over the years, I even have scars. In different situations the feeling was different sometimes powerful, sometimes desired, sometimes dirty; in the cases that I felt gratified I did it again.
I have found that my most successful sexual partnerships are the ones that get beyond “rules of engagement” and achieve mutual attention. When two partners communicate and pay attention to responses/sensations they get it is much easier to be both fluid and safe.
When it comes to consent I think there are two buckets: acts I consent to allow and people I consent to trust. The people I consent to trust get to test my boundaries; even if later I tell them “Let’s never do that again,” because I trust that they will respect my needs.
Hmm,
I agree with Sarah that the distinction between the non consensual choking and rough sex play could have been clearer. It’s all about power, in sex play the power relationships have been negotiated and are mediated through consent and communication. That’s very much not the case in a fight.
And in regards to transparency in communication re sexual preferences. I think the more specific your preferences, the more margin for error (I’m not just talking ’bout harm etc here), and the greater the importance of open communication.
Thanks everyone for weighing in and speaking in such clear voices.
@Cesar, I hope you don’t mind if I reference your comments at the upcoming Sex::Tech conference? Especially: “I don’t think there is any viable connection between feminism and sexual etiquette.” That’s a great jumping off point for the “I am a Sex Educator” panel!
Another comment: “When it comes to consent I think there are two buckets: acts I consent to allow and people I consent to trust.”
That almost took my breathe away. I so envy your freedom…
I appreciate you putting your context in the foreground of your post. Many of us (most often women and transfolk, but obviously men, too) don’t get to exercise that kind of freedom to trust. Too many of us are violated from a young age, or along our journeys of exploration and experimentation, and when we raise our voices and express our boundaries, they/we are not respected.
Things *should* be the way you describe them, and it is that kind of sexual culture we should all work toward.
This post engages several ‘hats’ that I either wear of have worn in my life. A lot of my thoughts have already been expressed by other commenters, but I guess that is what happens when you give people a space to write whatever they want
So, my advocate hat says:
Your friend should be concerned that her boyfriend choked her in anger. As her friend, I think it would help her if you could safely (i.e. not in the presence of her boyfriend) check-in with her on other experiences she might have had where she felt dominated or controlled by him WITHOUT her express consent, or other times when he has demonstrated or used violence in her presence. That is to say, this could be an isolated incident, or it could be the beginning of a pattern where he uses multiple forms of actual or implied violence to control her. These patterns tend to become more extreme and more dangerous over time. If she is near the beginning of such a pattern, helping her to think about these things now could help her to be safer later on.
My educator hat says:
I agree with the many comments before mine that say CONSENT is the key, obtained PRIOR to the act. Your current partner who engaged in rough sex with you without obtaining your consent could just as easily have been raping you. I do not use the term ‘rape’ for shock value or as a literary device. I say ‘rape’ because that is what it would have been, legally and morally, and he is lucky that you do not consider it so. In my opinion, nothing about obtaining consent for sex reduces pleasure in any way… if anything, it increases it. If someone feels differently about obtaining prior consent, then I say the point is not to maximize pleasure, the point is to minimize harm. The discomfort of obtaining prior consent is a small price for a caring (or simply moral) person to avoid the potential harm of violating another person.
My feminist hat says:
What makes you think that this is your hat? Because you’re a man? This is feminism’s hat and it is equally owned and wearable by all. Having made that point, the hat continues to say that feminism (as the hat I wear understands it) is about the empowerment of people to transcend the expectations and limitations placed on them based on the social perception of their gender. So, if that is the definition of feminism in use in your life, I do not see anything un-feminist about choosing to allow a sexual partner to choke you, and taking pleasure in that act. If feminists agree that a woman should have the ability to choose what happens to her body, regardless of that choice, then I see choosing to be choked as part of that continuum of empowered decision making. I also wear the kind of feminist hat that sees women in sex work as being part of a continuum of women’s choices, as long as that work is done in the context of equal empowerment, safety and consent (which it generally is not).
Now, I know that there are other feminist hats out there that would say that the eroticization of being choked is a symptom of the internalized oppression and learned helplessness that comes from existing as an objectified person in a patriarchal, sexually toxic society. I do not know that there is reconciliation between the two points of view, or that there needs to be. I think that we all have to find a way to live in the space that we are in, and to make the most out of the time that we have… hopefully by doing the most good that we can. I also think there is lots of room for different types of feminist hats on the feminist hat stand.
I’m not sure which hat says this, but I think that the desire to lose control, responsibility, or shame and simply enjoy pleasure is a common one. I do not think there is anything wrong with that as long as there is a context of trust and consent. The reasons for wanting the experience may be complex, but in the context of consent I think people have a right to explore themselves and their boundaries.
One of my favorite parts of BDSM is that it is a culture built around discussion and open dialogue about sexuality, pain, etc. Every year the queer group on my campus hosts S&M 101 with the DC Leatherboys, and it’s great. Feeling that you have the right to explore safely, no matter whom your partner, is a great part of that culture.
I think it is also important to remember that empowerment is individual. If you feel empowered by your actions, that is all that matters.
Great post!
@nancy – feel free to use whatever you want.
It takes time and introspection to reach comfort with your sexuality and what you need from a partner. I don’t think anyone is incapable of reaching that level of freedom, but the road is harder for some people.
Great discussion, everyone!
@Cesar: I really love your input. I love the idea of things I consent to allow and people I consent to trust. That definitely rang a bell with me.
@Nancy: I agree with Cesar’s comments that everyone can work toward that level of freedom. I appreciate your acknowledgement that certain groups of people (both cisgender and transgender women especially) are often victimized and objectified, but I don’t think it is that simple. Intersectionality plays a huge role in who has power in sexual relationships. For example, men of color are often sexualized in ways that affect how they move in the world (think the “Latin Lover” stereotype, or pictures of oiled up, shirtless black hip-hop artists–while associated with maleness, they are still objectified). For me, as a white cisgender woman dating two men of color, both of vastly differently regarded racial/ethnic backgrounds–who has sexual agency? Who has power? The intersections of privilege and oppression are myriad and varied and require constant navigation.
As a survivor of an emotionally abusive, coercive relationship, I can say that I work toward two buckets every day. Sometimes the lines between them are more distinct than others, but reaching for freedom every day is possible, and attainable for at least this survivor!
@everyone In this discussion of consent and empowerment, I also wanted to complicate the discussion of gender a little bit. Several people have referred to “women, men, and transfolks,” as if trans people are automatically a third gender that is not compatible with the words “woman” or “man.” This feels (to me) voyeuristic and assuming, something I hope that all of us working for consent can agree is not the goal. Owning my own cisgender privilege here, I will just say that in my experience, gender is much more complicated than that, and that while some people identify as trans and not man or woman, others identify as trans AND man or woman. And of course, there are people that don’t identify with any of the labels I’ve used thus far, or combine them in other ways. So, I just wanted to complicate the discussion of gender and consent a little more and hopefully leave a bit more gender elbow-room.
Thanks for complicating the discussion, and I certainly wasn’t trying to be voyeuristic… but I appreciate you pointing out the myriad ways to express and experience gender, privilege, survival, freedom, pain and pleasure. The more elbow room, the better!
I do wonder how college students are grappling with these spaces and intersections?
good post, and interesting discussion. I love The Line campaign. I have to say, though, that I disagree with some of the comments about Sarah’s account of some situations where consent is obtained after the act.
I think that not every non-consensual act (sexual or otherwise) has the same degree of traumatic impact on an individual, and when as feminists and sex educators, we tell people that they experienced assault when they do not perceive it that way, we are forcing a story on them in place of their own.
I think it is contextual, and I really like @Cesar’s framing of the two buckets.
Hey everyone,
@sarah
I agree that whatever my friend likes in bed does not count as an excuse, and I don’t think that she felt that way either.
@Cesar
I have to differ from you in thinking that there is no connection between feminism and sexual etiquette. I think that sexual gratification stems from our identities, political and ideological, and feminism is definitely tied to that in terms of empowering oneself.
@Critical Masculinities
I think what you’re pointing to regarding a greater need to define rough sex play in this entry has a lot to do with how varied the responses were according to the people I asked. Some people completely agreed with my friend in that some forms of choking count, while others completely strayed from that. Perhaps this subject deserves an entire entry.
@Chad
There are a lot of factors to my friend’s situation that I have not fully explained, but she has experienced what I would consider a pattern of violence with this (now ex-)boyfriend. It’s also not the first partner either, so I appreciate the sentiment that as a friend it’s my job to help her be safer.
Also, I don’t really agree with your comment that “Your current partner who engaged in rough sex with you without obtaining your consent could just as easily have been raping you… he is lucky that you do not consider it so.” It’s very true that if I were anyone else, who didn’t feel so strongly about protecting her body or making it a priority, my thoughts would be different. Yet I do not in any way feel less empowered, I am not suppressing any trauma, and there is no reason to say to my partner, “you should feel lucky because this was a legal and moral issue.” A statement like that sounds malicious to me, and in some ways a violation of the feelings that I actually hold. Perhaps what needs to be emphasized most is what a commenter mentioned about defining consent for a single act versus trusting a person entirely. I fully trust my partner and have been in situations with him in the past in which I’ve said, no, I can’t do this anymore, and he’s been more than willing to stop. All that said, I completely see that you are coming at this from a place of concern, and am also appreciative of the fact.
@re.sister.with.love
I agree with you that “not every non-consensual act (sexual or otherwise) has the same degree of traumatic impact on an individual”.
Thanks so much for the comments, and I am really encouraged to hear from so many of you that “Communication doesn’t hurt the moment” and that mutual attention is important. Will start working on my own yes/maybe/no list soon!
@Marilla
I agree with your statement “sexual gratification stems from our identities, political and ideological…”
However, saying that doesn’t mean that one has to be feminist to be both female and gratified. I would hold up that sexual ethoses like Gorian and ’50s roleplay offer gratification well outside the construct of female equality. What your political/ideological views are affect one’s sexual identity, but, generally, don’t make the majority of one’s identity.
I had a very long conversation with my primary about this. She asserts that my feminism outside the bedroom is what allows for our sexual context. I think that my feminism is what attracts her to me (and allows me to be in her “people bucket”), but that isn’t the source of my sexual etiquette (this could just be semantics).
@Shawna
The transgender issue is, of course, very complicated. Because it covers a very broad swath of people intersexed, FTM, MTF, pre-op, post-op and a variety of states of physical/psychological union on the individual’s current state vs. ideal state. I don’t mean it to be voyeuristic, rather, more along the lines of non-polar sex and gender identities.
I work with college students who are mostly pretty early in their sexual journeys and some are dipping their toes into BDSM. I think the best tool I have as a teacher to encourage them to explore and push into new realms of experience and (hopefully) pleasure is to have, and use, a safeword. That allows for less explicit discussion of things (for lots of younger people, they don’t yet have language to say, “I want you to tie my hands using this elaborate knotting and then spank me with this vegan paddle” or whatever it is they want) but gives room for a trusting (and trustworthy) partner to find, push up against, and then be contained by boundaries. Under the best of circumstances they can say to their partner, “I want you to do the things I say I wnat, try the things you want and to try things you think I might want but if I say ‘stiletto’ then you have to stop.” A partner who isn’t a rapist isn’t going to balk at that and will likely revel in the trust that’s established by giving them permission to explore. In my experience, people don’t have incredibly specific kinks until they’re pretty experienced players to safewording is a good way to figure out what you like and don’t like in a context of trust and with a limit that can grow with you. Just my two cents.
[...] oh yea, and BDSM and Feminism. Why label specific sex acts “feminist”? credit BDSM culture for how we talk about [...]
[...] reading “Am I empowered, degraded, or both?” we discussed at dinner that night what consent means. At the base we have the same view: there [...]