L&R July 2017 Magazine

Bad Feminist?
Does Liking BDSM Make Me a Bad Feminist?
We’ve all played that game in our heads where we imagine our own tragic but lavish
funeral where people throw themselves at our coffins whilst sobbing uncontrollably into
fancy hankies, and think up the various things they might say about us during drawnout,
emotional speeches. Or maybe that’s just me? (it isn’t – Ed.)
I’d like to think that people would describe me as a resolute, driven person. They might
say I was an independent, free-thinking lady. They might even throw in ‘she was the
perfect combination of beauty and brains and badassdom’ for good measure (a girl can
always dream, right?) So basically, in my funeral fantasy, they’d be likening me to a
goddess-like creature, while sobbing A LOT.
All of the above sound like great qualities for a feminist to have, but then here comes
the tricky part; not only am I a feminist, but a feminist who acts out her fantasies of
submission on a regular basis. When I say submission I mean choking, slapping,
biting, restraining, spanking, being called a dirty slut – the whole shebang. Some
people seem to think that it is impossible to call yourself a feminist and enjoy BDSM
play, but I beg to differ. Either I am the exception to the rule or we need new rules – or
- here’s a thought – no rules.
I discovered my slightly deviating urges at the tender age of fourteen. There was
nothing tender, however, about my dazed daydreams. I found myself inexplicably
fascinated and excited by the idea of being dominated.
Growing up, as my friends and I conquered new territories in relationships and sex, I
would listen to my girlfriends chatter excitedly about the thrill of having their hair pulled
by their boyfriends, and often wondered if I was somehow twisted for harbouring urges
that went far beyond a fistful of hair.