This is such a happy find for me. I read Delilah Wood’s story about leaving the pro domme business for good. I could relate to everything she had to say. I’ve told you before of my friend Angie, who had her share of the emotionally crippling lifestyle, but with this story, I mostly related to myself. See, as a survivor of abuse, more than one kind, I’ve grown to disassociate my head, my heart and my pussy. Intimacy has been forced upon me, and I’ve escaped in immoral ways. Hurt people and been hurt again, myself.
Delilah’s saying exactly the things I wish I had heard from my friend’s mouth, when she first described using sounds and a flogger and doing mummification. Where was the compassion? She said straight away that some of the men, the submissives, just couldn’t tell anyone their weird perverted secrets. Some of them had been hurt, so much so, that they craved to be hurt again in order to be satisfied. Why didn’t she care? Well, she might have not, but Delilah did. She started doing counseling in order to help people cope with their kinks and have a happy sex life with a real partner. Who loves them.
Money always feeds out of the crave for love and acceptance. Money can and will not change what already works. Money is never inventive, ground breaking, discoursive, helping. Money is a necessity. Money is greed. Money is porn without sexual education. Money is anti-love.
I love how reading BDSM blogs has made me challenge my views. I’ve met people who have done sex work, BDSM work, like to hurt people or be encaged. And I am not appalled. I’m, for the first time, understanding something. It takes a courageous heart to diffuse what we’ve learned, to distract the morals from the emotional truths. To make their own paths in a world I could not even enter. To make good instead of money. To talk honestly about making money, and still feeling the way they feel.
I used to feel that behind every BDSMer there’s a history of abuse, and behind every sex worker, even more so. I used to feel it was something that should be taimed, handled, stopped. I am not where I started. I realize I can no longer discuss things I feel with my friends, because laying ground rules would demand changing their stereotypical expectations, fears and hinging morals. I have educated myself beyond the normative – I guess, the good girl stage, which is just a code for ignorant -, and that’s thanks to everyone who have shared their truth in the blogs I’ve religiously read for years now.
Now I’m different, but how to change the world? How to even change my friends?