Don’t be jealous, but lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time with people in the BDSM/porn/fetish community. I’m not looking to do so necessarily, but a lot of people in my sphere seem to be “in the business” – so to speak. So, you know, when in Rome. I have been to some clubs, parties, and even been privy to conversations about anal sex at 7:30 in the morning. In fact, just this past weekend I worked the Stockroom booth at the Folsom Street Fair. http://www.folsomstreetfair.com/ For those of you unfamiliar with it, Folsom Street Fair is a big BDSM street fair in San Francisco. Some things you might see there include, but are not limited too: naked men, circle jerks, live bands, cross dressers, drunk ass holes, people fucking on the street, hairy butt cheeks, fat girls in lingerie, fisting, people being walked on leashes and garlic fries.
This was my first time as a vendor at the event, rather than a reveler. It was a nice change to be sober and in the shade. In the past I have spent much of the day in The Cat Club – dancing with friends and drinking $5 beers until I am one of those obnoxious people who shout “WOOOOOOO! This is my song!” whenever a good song comes on. This time I got to sell nipple clamps, leather masks and say things like: “It’s a pony tail. You stick it in your butt and prance around like a pony”. It’s not everyday that I get to do that.
I like S & M. I don’t find anything wrong with it. If that’s what tickles your pickle – go for it. Who am I to tell anyone what to do or not to do in the bedroom, kitchen, or softly lit stage in a club? Actually, I like being slapped around and tied up. I just don’t see why we need all this STUFF to do it. I mean, when did sex become so complicated? When did we get to the point where we need fucking machines, personal categories, accessories and torture devises just to get off? Personally, what turns me on is power and strength and physical contact. If you are going to hit me, strangle me, or make me submit – then do it with your hands and stop fucking around already.
Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Alicia, you are a self proclaimed feminist. How can you be a feminist and also like to be slapped around by men? How can you stand up for the rights of women and at the same time enjoy submission?” I don’t know. I don’t have all of the answers. I think that maybe people are defining feminism in really narrow and constrictive terms. I think feminism is about personal freedom and the rights of women. If I consent and I enjoy it, then I think I can still be a feminist.
I think I have a bigger problem trying to reconcile being a feminist and being a part of a world that judges you on how you look, what you wear and whom you know. This is something that is true in the BDSM community and the rest of the world as well. I mean, we live in a world of those fucking gross American Apparel Ads http://www.americanapparel.net/gallery/photocollections/ and the god dammed Pussy Cat Dolls! I like to look at pretty girls as much as the next guy, but give me a break. I believe that everyone is entitled to knee socks and sweat shorts. But I am over this gaunt, emaciated, weird, exhausted looking girl. I am tired of seeing her parted lips and chiseled hips. I am so over looking at ads focused on some freezing looking girl and her tiny, hollow body parts. And the whole Pussy Cat Dolls idea of feminism is just bullshit. I am actually waxing nostalgic for the Spice Girls! Little girls shouldn’t have to live up to the physical standards of strippers or porn actresses. (Which, FYI, I have seen up close and let me tell you – they look worn out, beat down, and strung out.) I remember when girls were allowed to be geeky and weird and sassy and pretty and they didn’t have to worry about being sexy. Take a look here at this girl: http://stockroom.com/Photo-Catalog-P2300.aspx I was told by two different men that she is fat. FAT! Seriously. If Aria Giovanni is cocidered to be fat, what hope do I have? I know my insecurities are no ones fault but mine, but seriously.
I guess what it all comes down to is your own mind and sense of self. I might be over analyzing everything; it wouldn’t be the first time. It just makes me mad when I see my male friends look at women and say, “she’s not pretty enough”. What if that same woman just happens to make you laugh and is really smart and great in bed? I think that our standards as a country are incredibly hard to live up too and I think that I am really tired of trying. I hope that one day I won’t give a shit about my extra five or ten pounds and I’ll be able to tell society at large what they can do with their unreasonable expectations of me, and their labels and fucked up role models.
Stick it in your butt.