community

Today I had a thought that stopped me in my tracks: I don’t believe I have ever read a single blog post by a male-identified BDSM dominant and/or sadist. I’ve kept this blog for over a year now, and y’all can see from the blogroll on the right-hand side that I’ve encountered a fair number of cool sex blogs; but I don’t recall ever seeing a male top’s blog.

Off the top of my head, I can think of many (oft-updated!) examples of the other combinations. For female bottoms there is of course myself, and violetwhite writes in a lovely, highly personal style. Female tops also represent: over a year after I found it, I can still recall my electrifying first reading of Trinity at SM-Feminist; a trio of clever female tops recently started a group effort called Topologies. And it’s not like it’s just women writing sex blogs — for male bottoms there’s the amazing activist maymay at Maybe Maimed But Never Harmed, the eloquent Orlando at In Scarlet Ink, my adorable college and Chicago-based friend Danny at Sex, Art and Politics, and the always-incisive Thomas of Yes Means Yes fame. And then there’s the queer butch top Sinclair “Sugarbutch” Sexsmith; and I have never seen a trans person’s blog strictly dedicated to BDSM, but Chicago’s own extraordinary Hazel/Cedar — who identifies as female but prefers the gender-neutral pronoun — sometimes notes hir kink experience as a BDSM-switch.

I received an email from a Facebook group that I follow.  The group, Straight for Equality is focused on building understanding and advocacy among "straight" identified persons in their relations with LGBT communities and individuals.

One of their staff received an advice column type of request.  She posted it to their facebook community.  Many folks have posted their responses on Straight for Equality's fb page.  I replied by email and I don't know if anyone else did.  The instructions state that responses should be posted at their discussion board, so I suggest you do that at the very least.

Here is the letter from Straight for Equality, including the request from their reader:

Dear Straight for Equality supporters,

The Straight for Equality Facebook group is a forum where people can come to get support, exchange ideas, and connect with other allies, and it’s been a great success thanks to all of you.

To kick off the New Year, we have a special Straight for Equality challenge for you. As you know, it’s not always easy being an ally; many people have questions and need to overcome some barriers when it comes to being an out and proud ally to the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender (GLBT) community.

We recently received a question from a budding straight ally who wrote to us looking for help, and we thought that you all would be the perfect people to respond to him. So here is your challenge: the person with the best response to the question below will have their message featured on the Straight for Equality Facebook page and they will receive a special Straight for Equality Gift Pack, as well as the respect and admiration of your fellow allies.

To submit a response, go to the discussion boards and post your response under the topic “Ask an Ally January 2010” before January 20. If your response is selected as the best answer to the question, we’ll e-mail you and ask for your mailing address so you can receive your prize!

This continues a series of posts from events and explorations conducted at Burning Man 2009.

Black Rock City 2009.

I left off my story of my journey across the playa and waking up with Siobhan, and she suggesting that we visit Breakfast Camp.  Then the connection washed through me: moments ago Yasmine was describing my experience walking across the field of desire – my dream image of the playa – where I had seen all my deepest desires and yearnings projected in front of me.  That walk across my own dreamscape.

The thing about Burning Man, the deepest feeling that I’ve taken with me, is that for the impression made by the city and the people and the high voltage vibe, the deep part is the Earth setting of that plateau…a lakebed, embraced by mountains…a small sample of a massive geological lake woven around the mountains, gone but for a few remaining high pH pools…which lay vacant for 10,000 years…a moonscape…and then this trans-human encampment descends on it, with all its noise and color, but the chaos is held in this deeper pool of silence and space…and time…

Siobhan and I walked toward breakfast camp, which turned out to be the haunt of Lucille; whom I had photographed the prior day.  Just yesterday?  It easily felt like I had lived a month between then and now, but I did the logic and it was,  in fact, yesterday.  She often surfaced at Paradise (Poly Paradise, where I was staying); in fact somehow she always seemed to be there.  Others, at other camps, had this impression as well.  Only here, she was called Bliss.  I also found a third camp where she had a third name and seemingly a third reality.

This continues a series of posts from events and explorations conducted at Burning Man 2009.

Photo by Eric Francis.

In Black Rock City, there is a delicate moment between when one day ends and the next begins. It’s as if night lasts for some minutes, shortly before the rising of the Sun. The many raves settle down to silence around this time and the overnight dancers make their way home in twos and threes. The sky is warming in the sensation of illuminated darkness. We were held gently in that limber space. The city was silent and isolated, though it was a worldly kind of aloneness: in an odd way secure; we were together.

I knew where we were: the Mystical Couch on the corner of 4:30 and Promenade. This was a couch randomly set underneath a sturdy plastic shelter, like a porch on a busy intersection. As I gradually awakened, physical form felt strange and precious. I was surprised that I hadn’t missed it, in that other realm: the sensation of being physically alive. My sandals, sturdy and soaked in dust, were still strapped to my feat. My bluejean shorts wrapped my hips, and I was snug in my cotton pastel colored blanket that I had brought home from Holland.

“Where did you go?” Siobhan asked.

“Everywhere,” I said. “I dreamed I was walking out along on the playa. At first I was with you. Then you were gone, and I was naked. I had no idea how I had lost you and it felt so real. Realer than real. Finally I made peace with losing you, and that’s when I realized my clothes were gone.” As I said the words, I felt them tumble out like tarot cards. I could almost see the symbols align meaningfully.

Transgender Basics – an amazing video from The Center in New York City.

TRANS BASICS: GLOSSARY OF TERMS

Here we identify and explain differences between the separate continuums of sex, gender role, gender identity, and sexual orientation; in addition to articulating basic transgender terminology.

We want to try to use language that people consider affirming to themselves. Based on the understanding that this is actually a more accurate way to speak about people, that transgender individuals are experts on their own lives and we’re going to try to sustain language in the same level of expertise. We’re also confirming the NYC Human Rights law.

The following terminology is taken from the Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) as well as various Gender Identity Project materials. The original GLAAD text may be found on GLAAD’s website.

Backstory

Photo by Eric Francis.

It is some months after these events; I’ve lost count.  Not so many, let’s see—this was in September, and now it is November—so just under one season ago. It seems so distant and it seems like last week at the same time.

I remember that night as Siobhan and I walked across the playa. It was a journey on the surface of a different planet than the one we had come from, and neither of us forgot the image of the city as a temple complex. I described it when I had settled down a little. My description resembled both a feeling and a visual she experienced at the same time.

Fun Sway, who said she would be back to try that thing, thanked us for sharing the experience, and she plunged into the night. I was one to one with Siobhan and aware of the warmest space of acceptance by another person, safe and embracing. She didn’t need to speak to me and I didn’t need her too. This encouraged me to hold my silence and let so much that I was feeling swim around and find its world within me.

Photo by Eric Francis.

“Does it feel like we’re in a much bigger space than we are?” Siobhan asked.

“Vast space,” I said.

“A plateau,” she whispered.

My consciousness spread across the playa, in all directions over and across the miles of powdery skin, beyond the bounds of our city.

I breathed in and ascended. I exhaled and breathed in again and was lofted to an altitude where I could sense the perspective of the wider landscape. Playa, silent except for the wind, wrapped around many other mountains and reflecting the cosmic fire of the night sky.

There were people, and there were souls. The people were concentrated in our city. The souls did not speak, they only vibrated; like a fountain of energy moving mostly in one direction, which was tumbling. The wordless place, it was called among those in bodies.

“It’s so beautiful here,” I said.

“I understand,” she said lovingly. “I can feel the souls. You can let go of yourself here.”

 Send someone else...

Dancer at Burning Man ritual. Photo by Eric Francis.

She rocked my hips and guided me toward myself using her emotions as a beacon. Standing on either side were two men.  Their eyes engulfed me with their witness. In the mirror in front of me, I could look at them or look at myself; I chose myself. She leaned with her breath close to my ear.  ‘Forget about dignity’, she advised softly. ‘That’s what it’s about. Now’s when you can let it all go’.  To me that meant moan.  It meant let it happen, and press my feet into the floor to stretch my thighs, so I did.  I would say that I grunted shamelessly but in truth I grunted out my shame and loved the guttural quality of the emotion.  ‘There you go, baby’, she said. ‘Both of these boys are going to fuck me soon and I’m gonna take it like you are now’.

I didn’t know if that meant she would do it right there, but before that thought flashed through my mind, she was getting up.  I would not see, though I would know.  She reached over and squeezed the tip of my penis, making it twitch. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ she said teasingly.  ‘Send someone else’, I said.  I heard the words come out, and gasped slightly as my eyes glanced hers. ‘I’ll see what I can do’, she said, and stood up slowly and glided to the door, followed by her lovers.  I fucked myself mercilessly.  I sang to the city outside as the night world thrived.  Gradually I settled back to earth and into a slow rhythm of upward plunges, and flooded the space with my presence.

By Millie Jackson

Gratitude is a great remedy for discontentment.  Being grateful produces positive results because it sets into motion an uplifting appreciation for life.  Thankfully, living with an attitude of gratitude is an option we all have regardless of our circumstances.

Happiness and contentment can be found in the moment when we are not constantly looking for new things to come along and “make” us happy (job, car, relationships, clothes, toys, etc.).  What we don’t have can appear far more desirable, while what we do have can seem worth less--the proverbial “The grass is always greener on the other side”.  By experiencing gratitude for what we have, we can avoid the pitfall of “not knowing what we had until it’s gone”.

Health and wellness are great examples of aspects of ourselves that often are taken for granted until a crisis is experienced.  It is this disregard for our bodies that can result in lack of appropriate care that precipitates some crises.

By Lesley Esteves

I am 33 years old and I live in Delhi, at the centre of numerous comforting, celebratory and ever validating queer spaces.  But I grew up in Bombay, in a time when there were no spaces for lesbian women and gay men were only beginning to carve the first visible spaces in that city.  I grew up thinking I was the only sick person on this earth who harboured a desire to touch another woman.  One day my mother brought home this Savvy magazine.  It had a story on it about Sylvie, the out gay hairdresser from Delhi.  I don’t really remember the story now, it was way back when I was in school, but I remember there was a photo of Sylvie dressed as a bride, kissing a man and I remember my reaction to that. I was horrified.  I thought, these people are freaks and that’s not what I am. I cant be these people.  I shuddered at the thought that my peers in school would tell me I’m like Sylvie.