Kinky Communion

Personal Reflections on my Journey Towards Black, Queer, Kinky Joy

Whew! In the year and a half since finding public kink, I’ve been confronted with many revelations about myself, my desires, and the people and communities that I engage with. I’d like to share these reflections here, both to document my journey and to share with others who are also on this self-reflective kink journey alongside me.

Photo by Juliette F on Unsplash

In the cult-like, rigid religious spaces that shaped my early 20s (leading to deep mental illness and physical stress) and the cult-like, respectable academic spaces I live in now (which continue to make me quite sick), shame, rigidity, and lack of joy has been a constant norm.

I have always been asked to give up myself and everything non-normative about me so that I can fit in, appease the sensibilities of others, and center their desires and expectations. In these spaces I have not had the practice of owning all of who I am or what I want. In fact, in most spaces I’ve lived in, self-betrayal - to the point of exhaustion and self-erasure - is the norm. It’s often the marker of being a “good” woman, a “good” academic, a “good” community member, and a “good” romantic partner.

But being able to embrace kink in communion with other Black (often queer) folk who are enthusiastically oriented to seeking collective pleasure without shame has been life-changing. Standing in service with a room full of Black submissives at a high protocol event last year allowed me to connect with my service-oriented self in ways that I still can’t fully articulate.

This 45 year old body - greying hair, bad knees and all - was able to fall seamlessly into rhythm alongside a collective of others as we moved together in well-orchestrated motion, providing sacred service to other Black and brown kinksters for a night of exquisite, kinky goodness. I think of this night more often than not and this experience of high protocol is something that my body still craves desperately.

It was also space where my neurospicy brain could turn off and I could silence the self-monitoring demons that typically keep me shy, hesitant, and awkward in most places. In service I found that I could drop into my body in a new way, held by the protective container of clearly-defined protocols that significantly reduced my mental load, allowing me to focus on giving of myself in ways that were deeply desired - and deeply appreciated by others.

As I bent at the waist in butler pose (cause my knees bad) and offered hors d’oeuvres or cocktails, I waited to be released, giddy with excitement, before going to serve others. And as I took turns washing dishes or preparing food in the background, I could be present and engaged in a communal space in ways that I usually don’t experience in my daily life. One hour passed. Then three. Then six. But I never felt it. I could have moved through that room in service for the rest of my life.

So what did I learn? Kinky service lives in my body and calms my mind. Kinky service is where I find great joy. Kinky service IS. MY. JAM. This service is not extracted without my consent, as it is in most areas of my life. No. It is freely given by me to others who appreciate it and receive it in ways that are deeply fulfilling for all of us.

This year is also one where I’ve seen the end of a relationship and D/s dynamic which has forced me to really sharpen my wits as I decide who is worthy - and capable - of receiving this gift of service. And what I love about being my age is that I’ve gotten much quicker at saying What the fuck?

My internal ancestral voice is loud. It sounds a lot like my grandma sitting on her settee, counting her money while sizing niggas up, getting ready to let them know don’t come over and play in her face. Cause, what’s love got to do with it if you can’t respect my boundaries or register the endless ways that I show up for you and give the gift of my time and body and energy?

I’ve also learned that I deeply crave a dynamic coupled with a romantic relationship. Because for me D/s dynamics - and even moments of service for that matter - are extremely intimate and relational, not transactions or one-off exchanges that happen casually. And while a more casual arrangement works for other folks that I’m in community with, I know in my bones that I crave a level of connection and submission that can only emerge in the protective and grounded container of a trusting and well-established relationship and community.

So, what did I learn? Don’t let folks get you fucked up, own what it is that you want and need in a relationship - D/s or not, and flow towards those people and spaces who can meet you with respect.

This has been a beautiful, challenging, and game-changing year for me. I’m excited to continue growing and learning and sharpening my discernment, allowing me to continue to choose a path towards more fulfilling engagement with first myself and second our kinky community.

I’m also in a period of great transition in my life. Relationships, work, even where I will live, are all up in the air. I’m praying that as the pieces fall into place, I will find myself rooted in communities that are affirming and grounded in joy.

And, as always, I wish the same for you too!