A longtime
friend of mine recently had the courage to allow others an inside view of her BDSM experiences
and her thoughts on “50 Shades of Grey” and has allowed me to post it
anonymously because of its significant importance. Do yourself a favor and read
this if for no other reason than to educate yourself on the difference between consensual
BDSM and abuse. Also, please share this with as many people (men and women) as
you can. The message needs to be heard.
Made in Fifty.
As I'm sure many of you have seen, I'll keep pretty quiet
about a hot-button issue until most of the dust has settled. I do this because
I like to see both sides and I want to respect both. I like to be thoughtful
with things that I put out into the world that are strong convictions for me. I
wasn't always this way, but as I get older, it's important to me.
A couple of my friends have privately messaged me and asked me what I thought of "the 50 Shades of Grey debate." It was not a secret that for several years I was involved in a BDSM relationship. The question, I presume, was: did I think that "50 Shades of Grey" was poorly-written mommy-porn like a lot of people criticize that it is, or did I think it was worthy of all the sensation surrounding it? How did I compare it to what I experienced in real life? This led me to think for a long time about how to respond.
I'll start by saying this: I haven't read it. That being said, I have read excerpts of it. My opinion of it is neither black nor white; however I have strong opinions about it.
From the excerpts I have read and how I know it ends, what I can tell you is that it sounds like it closely mirrors my real-life experience as a submissive. That experience ended up being one that scarred me deeply and had repercussions I was unaware of until the damage was already done. While not all BDSM relationships are like the one I was involved in, I experienced the same types of treatment as Anastasia, the main character in "50 Shades of Grey," in that I was controlled, coerced, raped, isolated, degraded, shamed and stalked.
It's not that the sensuality of the book/movie is something I am against. Far from it. It's the behavior of the characters and the way they interact. I think- I hope- most adults know that the difference between being spanked in a passionate moment of sex and being slapped in the face during an argument may be similar physical methodology, but they feel drastically different emotionally and the reason they do is because of the intent during the act. I'm not writing any of this to insult anybody's intelligence or preach to them what they should or should not enjoy in their private lives. I simply have a life experience that I know is not an isolated incident, and while many people know the generalities of what may have happened, I kept the details closely guarded, out of denial, shame and fear.
Defenders of the book say it's just a fictional story, just a fun and sexy thing to read and not take too seriously. I could see many people taking it that way, reading the books, enjoying them and going about their lives. But it's obvious by the media coverage, massive sales, the movie and the increase in BDSM-related products that have been seen since the books' release, that it is indeed affecting people's real sex lives, for better or for worse.
My concern doesn't lie in that. My concern is that if you're learning about BDSM from a fictional book, especially one with poorly-executed boundaries, blatant hesitation from one or more parties, and obsessive behavior, you run huge risk of being hurt or hurting someone else. Couple that with an ending that takes a callous man who "doesn't do romance" who eventually decides that the woman he's been using for sex and control, he suddenly loves and wants to marry. The book isn't just about kinky sex. It's also about romance and love, and is portraying they're something that can be earned through sex, compromising your boundaries and changing yourself to please someone else.
I grew up watching BDSM porn. So did my former partner. Porn is fantasy, just like "50 Shades of Grey." It is not real. The "unsexy" parts are omitted so you can simply embrace what's in front of you as a pleasurable experience, but in real life those "unsexy" parts are essential to keep you safe. Even today you don't often see a guy in porn stopping to put on a condom. If he even uses one, it's not there one moment and the next it's suddenly on him. So you generally don't learn about safe sex through porn, but thankfully there are sex education classes and directions on a box of condoms. But when you're learning about sex, especially sex that pushes someone's physical and emotional limits, there is no room for omission and the education that is out there is generally not taught to you unless you seek out that education, independent of the fantasy.
My partner and I had a long-distance relationship. Over this time of over two years, he requested that I write a total of volumes and volumes of erotica involving what we would do if we were closer. Much of this involved rape fantasy, humiliation, degradation, and different kinds of abuse. I often enjoyed writing these to him because they made him happy, but I knew they weren't real. In these writings, I didn't talk about my boundaries, safe words, what I would really do or could never imagine doing. The letters were to serve him and to maintain my place in his life as the only girl he claimed could satisfy him. He told me constantly how much he loved them.
When he came to see me and we had to have a serious talk about what we would really do together, he refused to use a safe word because it "would ruin the moment." So we didn't have one. He refused to be mentored by someone more experienced because that made him embarrassed. During sexual acts I would sometimes feel uncomfortable or unsafe, and when I would tell him so he would guilt me, yell at me, or tell me things like he was starting to hate sex with me. One morning before he brought me to work, we were having what started out as consensual sex, and he was hurting me. I was crying and said, "can we please stop?" and pushed him away. He stood on the edge of the bed and said, "get on the floor."
I complied, and was silent until he finished. I pretended I was somewhere else, and told myself it would be over soon.
He drove me to work and I couldn't speak or look at him. He said, "what the fuck is YOUR problem?" I told him that I didn't want the sex we had just had.
"Then you should have told me to stop," he said.
When I told him I did, he began to yell at me, saying that I should have been more insistent about him stopping, and when I started to cry again, said, " do not blame me for this... you had a rape fantasy."
I had no recourse for that. He was right, wasn't he? It went too far, and I wanted him to stop. But he didn't, because "stop" didn't mean anything. It was part of our fantasy play, something that, when ignored, turned him on. Because of our lack of experience and miseducation by means of learning through the fantasy scenarios we had seen, we were walking a tightrope without a safety net. The fact that I "wanted it" or "asked for it" haunts me, and I know that in the eyes of the law, the things I wrote that were "just letters" that were "just fantasy" and "only for fun" were effectively insuring that if I ever sought justice for what happened to me, I would immediately fail.
Our relationship continued, and I told very few people what had happened. However, many people began to observe that my personality was changing. Unlike Anastasia in "50 Shades," I have always been an extroverted person with a lot of friends, who felt confident about her body and had strong opinions about things that I was passionate about. As the relationship I was in got more intense, I was controlled- what I could eat, the color nail polish I could wear, the type of underwear and cut of my t-shirts. He required 5 ice cubes in his drinks that I would serve him, and I referred to him as "Sir" and "Daddy." He would humiliate me in public. When I didn't want to do something I was told that I wasn't a good submissive and was letting him down after all he did for me. I was accused of cheating on him with every male friend that I had, and out of desperation to keep this man who I loved so much and had worked so hard to "earn," I alienated friends both male and female who had never wronged me. Adding my half-brother on Facebook, whom I had just met for the second time in my life after being adopted, was a fight and interrogation. Meanwhile, he had as much freedom as he said he required to continue a relationship with me. He went through my iPhone and tracked it so he always knew where I was, and demanded my Facebook and email passwords. His sexual desires became more and more extreme and he blamed me for it. His emotional extremes swung back and forth between telling me I was his soul mate and he wanted to marry me, to telling me that he was sick of me and nobody would ever love me again the way that he did.
His affection and approval were like a drug to me. Eventually, I was afraid and anxious all the time. In my head, I felt that if I could just keep him happy all the time, if I could keep from screwing up like I always seemed to do, we could be happy and I could have the person I first fell in love with. The person who I felt understood me, was my best friend and the most thoughtful, attentive and romantic person I had ever met. Our relationship ended violently. I didn't just lose him, I lost every dream that I had for us and everything we had built together. Because things looked great on the outside to a lot of bystanders who didn't understand what was going on, people who saw my participation in the dynamics of our relationship and saw him as an extremely likable guy, I lost a lot of friends- the ones I hadn't already abandoned to try to save our relationship. During our seemingly-endless court hearings dealing with the fallout of our relationship, I knew it would be worthless to tell them about the rape. I had written him so many letters telling him in detail that that was what I wanted him to do to me, and I knew he would present them if I ever said anything.
Trying to get away was difficult. I went back to him several times. I wanted to believe that if he really knew what he did, he would be sorry for it and would make efforts to make things right again. But he didn't. He would draw me in by gazing into my eyes and telling me how beautiful I was, asking me how I was doing, telling me he missed me and the life we used to have. I longed for any shred of kindness from him and clung to it desperately, hoping it was a sign he had changed or was pridefully trying to show remorse. Over and over again, I learned this was not the case. I had to learn that he never loved me. The "love" I had earned from him was actually just a sexual obsession with me that he found difficult to shake, perhaps because he didn't want another man to have that experience with me, or maybe because he didn't want to lose that control he had over me. But he definitely knew that if he could manipulate me in just the right way, I would destroy myself just to please him. I no longer knew who I was, the things I liked, who I could trust.
This is the kind of man Christian Grey really is. There is a reason that players in the BDSM scene distance themselves from the book- because it is not an accurate or responsible portrayal of a BDSM relationship. The very people who are well-versed enough in BDSM practices to know what is real and what is not, largely are not reading this book. People who have had little to no experience are the ones reading it. This is not said with intent to shame anyone. If people want to explore this type of sexuality in real life, they have the right to do so.
What I will say is, a fictional book, movie, or anything else of the sort is not a means to get educated about an intense, delicate, and potentially dangerous (if done the wrong way) type of sex. It is true what they say: "you don't know what you don't know, because you don't know it." Nobody foresees going into a situation where they're looking to explore something that is supposed to be fun, intimate and exciting while expecting it to devolve into a place of deep shame, trauma or regret that is extremely difficult to reconcile and rebuild from. But it did to me and the consequences were very severe. I now have been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and have symptoms of dissociation (feeling like what is happening isn't real- this is a way to shut off emotional or physical pain). I am distrustful of men, I'm afraid that sex will never feel safe or enjoyable again, and my self-confidence has plummeted. I have had times where I genuinely felt as worthless as I was told I was. And the next partner I have will have to in some way deal with the fallout of what happened in this past relationship. I don't want to subject anyone to that.
When a woman reads a book like "50 Shades" and introduces it to her partner when they don't have experience or knowledge about what they're doing, and one of them is traumatized from it, who is to be blamed and who shall be held accountable? She entered into this voluntarily- she may have even initiated it. If it goes wrong, does it make it her fault? If her partner hurts her, are they accountable for doing what seemed identical to what they read in a book? Does "I'm sorry" make it better? Do they deserve to serve jail time for a rape they never intended to commit or an injury they never intended to inflict? How do we differentiate if that person did it out of malice or by accident? Is the author of "50 Shades of Grey," E.L. James, going to give a shit that your sex play went wrong while she's swimming in the millions of dollars that she made off the sale of her books, film and licensed products? Even if she did, would it change what happened? 100 million copies of this book were sold, largely to women. 1 in 4 women is abused by a partner in her lifetime. The odds are that, while I feel very alone in my experience, I'm not the only one. But as of now, nobody is talking about recovery from BDSM relationships that go wrong. There are no support groups, no resources, no books and no specialized therapy. I know because I've tried to seek it out. There are only instructions on how to practice BDSM correctly and how to prevent it from going wrong in the first place. These resources will tell you that there is always risk involved, but just like preventing STDs, certain measures can be taken to protect yourself and your partner.
There are a lot of resources available for people who want to explore BDSM, that are thorough, accurate and valuable. Sex educators are trained and paid to answer your specific questions in a way that is friendly, non-intimidating and won't result in shame or embarrassment. They're fairly easy to find depending on your local community but are accessible through internet searches as well. You can even privately message me for resources and I'll try my best to point you in the right direction.
There is not a good or responsible way to cut corners when you're exploring anything that involves potentially hurting another person's body, mind or heart. If you care about them (or even if you don't), invest the time to keep both of you mentally and physically safe. The BDSM community prides itself on being "safe, sane and consensual" and those guidelines are in place for a very good reason. Private BDSM practice involves being personally accountable, educated on the subject and in excellent trust and communication with your partner. If there is part of a piece of erotica like "50 Shades of Grey" that intrigues you, know that there is more to a relationship like this than what you are reading. While it is exciting, being careless or sloppy with it can do a lot of harm, so empower yourself with knowledge before observing this piece of literature as empowering in and of itself. Just because it was written for women and is about sex doesn't mean it's empowering or liberating or feminist. The subject, by any account, is the victim of Intimate Partner Violence, and you do not want to be her or experience what she did. The neat little package that the author uses to tie up loose ends in the story- the one about changing a man from a controlling user to a loving, committed husband- is the firmly-held belief of every abused person who continues to hold on to their relationship or repeatedly goes back even after things get dangerous. In real life, their story with their partner is never a happy ending.
A couple of my friends have privately messaged me and asked me what I thought of "the 50 Shades of Grey debate." It was not a secret that for several years I was involved in a BDSM relationship. The question, I presume, was: did I think that "50 Shades of Grey" was poorly-written mommy-porn like a lot of people criticize that it is, or did I think it was worthy of all the sensation surrounding it? How did I compare it to what I experienced in real life? This led me to think for a long time about how to respond.
I'll start by saying this: I haven't read it. That being said, I have read excerpts of it. My opinion of it is neither black nor white; however I have strong opinions about it.
From the excerpts I have read and how I know it ends, what I can tell you is that it sounds like it closely mirrors my real-life experience as a submissive. That experience ended up being one that scarred me deeply and had repercussions I was unaware of until the damage was already done. While not all BDSM relationships are like the one I was involved in, I experienced the same types of treatment as Anastasia, the main character in "50 Shades of Grey," in that I was controlled, coerced, raped, isolated, degraded, shamed and stalked.
It's not that the sensuality of the book/movie is something I am against. Far from it. It's the behavior of the characters and the way they interact. I think- I hope- most adults know that the difference between being spanked in a passionate moment of sex and being slapped in the face during an argument may be similar physical methodology, but they feel drastically different emotionally and the reason they do is because of the intent during the act. I'm not writing any of this to insult anybody's intelligence or preach to them what they should or should not enjoy in their private lives. I simply have a life experience that I know is not an isolated incident, and while many people know the generalities of what may have happened, I kept the details closely guarded, out of denial, shame and fear.
Defenders of the book say it's just a fictional story, just a fun and sexy thing to read and not take too seriously. I could see many people taking it that way, reading the books, enjoying them and going about their lives. But it's obvious by the media coverage, massive sales, the movie and the increase in BDSM-related products that have been seen since the books' release, that it is indeed affecting people's real sex lives, for better or for worse.
My concern doesn't lie in that. My concern is that if you're learning about BDSM from a fictional book, especially one with poorly-executed boundaries, blatant hesitation from one or more parties, and obsessive behavior, you run huge risk of being hurt or hurting someone else. Couple that with an ending that takes a callous man who "doesn't do romance" who eventually decides that the woman he's been using for sex and control, he suddenly loves and wants to marry. The book isn't just about kinky sex. It's also about romance and love, and is portraying they're something that can be earned through sex, compromising your boundaries and changing yourself to please someone else.
I grew up watching BDSM porn. So did my former partner. Porn is fantasy, just like "50 Shades of Grey." It is not real. The "unsexy" parts are omitted so you can simply embrace what's in front of you as a pleasurable experience, but in real life those "unsexy" parts are essential to keep you safe. Even today you don't often see a guy in porn stopping to put on a condom. If he even uses one, it's not there one moment and the next it's suddenly on him. So you generally don't learn about safe sex through porn, but thankfully there are sex education classes and directions on a box of condoms. But when you're learning about sex, especially sex that pushes someone's physical and emotional limits, there is no room for omission and the education that is out there is generally not taught to you unless you seek out that education, independent of the fantasy.
My partner and I had a long-distance relationship. Over this time of over two years, he requested that I write a total of volumes and volumes of erotica involving what we would do if we were closer. Much of this involved rape fantasy, humiliation, degradation, and different kinds of abuse. I often enjoyed writing these to him because they made him happy, but I knew they weren't real. In these writings, I didn't talk about my boundaries, safe words, what I would really do or could never imagine doing. The letters were to serve him and to maintain my place in his life as the only girl he claimed could satisfy him. He told me constantly how much he loved them.
When he came to see me and we had to have a serious talk about what we would really do together, he refused to use a safe word because it "would ruin the moment." So we didn't have one. He refused to be mentored by someone more experienced because that made him embarrassed. During sexual acts I would sometimes feel uncomfortable or unsafe, and when I would tell him so he would guilt me, yell at me, or tell me things like he was starting to hate sex with me. One morning before he brought me to work, we were having what started out as consensual sex, and he was hurting me. I was crying and said, "can we please stop?" and pushed him away. He stood on the edge of the bed and said, "get on the floor."
I complied, and was silent until he finished. I pretended I was somewhere else, and told myself it would be over soon.
He drove me to work and I couldn't speak or look at him. He said, "what the fuck is YOUR problem?" I told him that I didn't want the sex we had just had.
"Then you should have told me to stop," he said.
When I told him I did, he began to yell at me, saying that I should have been more insistent about him stopping, and when I started to cry again, said, " do not blame me for this... you had a rape fantasy."
I had no recourse for that. He was right, wasn't he? It went too far, and I wanted him to stop. But he didn't, because "stop" didn't mean anything. It was part of our fantasy play, something that, when ignored, turned him on. Because of our lack of experience and miseducation by means of learning through the fantasy scenarios we had seen, we were walking a tightrope without a safety net. The fact that I "wanted it" or "asked for it" haunts me, and I know that in the eyes of the law, the things I wrote that were "just letters" that were "just fantasy" and "only for fun" were effectively insuring that if I ever sought justice for what happened to me, I would immediately fail.
Our relationship continued, and I told very few people what had happened. However, many people began to observe that my personality was changing. Unlike Anastasia in "50 Shades," I have always been an extroverted person with a lot of friends, who felt confident about her body and had strong opinions about things that I was passionate about. As the relationship I was in got more intense, I was controlled- what I could eat, the color nail polish I could wear, the type of underwear and cut of my t-shirts. He required 5 ice cubes in his drinks that I would serve him, and I referred to him as "Sir" and "Daddy." He would humiliate me in public. When I didn't want to do something I was told that I wasn't a good submissive and was letting him down after all he did for me. I was accused of cheating on him with every male friend that I had, and out of desperation to keep this man who I loved so much and had worked so hard to "earn," I alienated friends both male and female who had never wronged me. Adding my half-brother on Facebook, whom I had just met for the second time in my life after being adopted, was a fight and interrogation. Meanwhile, he had as much freedom as he said he required to continue a relationship with me. He went through my iPhone and tracked it so he always knew where I was, and demanded my Facebook and email passwords. His sexual desires became more and more extreme and he blamed me for it. His emotional extremes swung back and forth between telling me I was his soul mate and he wanted to marry me, to telling me that he was sick of me and nobody would ever love me again the way that he did.
His affection and approval were like a drug to me. Eventually, I was afraid and anxious all the time. In my head, I felt that if I could just keep him happy all the time, if I could keep from screwing up like I always seemed to do, we could be happy and I could have the person I first fell in love with. The person who I felt understood me, was my best friend and the most thoughtful, attentive and romantic person I had ever met. Our relationship ended violently. I didn't just lose him, I lost every dream that I had for us and everything we had built together. Because things looked great on the outside to a lot of bystanders who didn't understand what was going on, people who saw my participation in the dynamics of our relationship and saw him as an extremely likable guy, I lost a lot of friends- the ones I hadn't already abandoned to try to save our relationship. During our seemingly-endless court hearings dealing with the fallout of our relationship, I knew it would be worthless to tell them about the rape. I had written him so many letters telling him in detail that that was what I wanted him to do to me, and I knew he would present them if I ever said anything.
Trying to get away was difficult. I went back to him several times. I wanted to believe that if he really knew what he did, he would be sorry for it and would make efforts to make things right again. But he didn't. He would draw me in by gazing into my eyes and telling me how beautiful I was, asking me how I was doing, telling me he missed me and the life we used to have. I longed for any shred of kindness from him and clung to it desperately, hoping it was a sign he had changed or was pridefully trying to show remorse. Over and over again, I learned this was not the case. I had to learn that he never loved me. The "love" I had earned from him was actually just a sexual obsession with me that he found difficult to shake, perhaps because he didn't want another man to have that experience with me, or maybe because he didn't want to lose that control he had over me. But he definitely knew that if he could manipulate me in just the right way, I would destroy myself just to please him. I no longer knew who I was, the things I liked, who I could trust.
This is the kind of man Christian Grey really is. There is a reason that players in the BDSM scene distance themselves from the book- because it is not an accurate or responsible portrayal of a BDSM relationship. The very people who are well-versed enough in BDSM practices to know what is real and what is not, largely are not reading this book. People who have had little to no experience are the ones reading it. This is not said with intent to shame anyone. If people want to explore this type of sexuality in real life, they have the right to do so.
What I will say is, a fictional book, movie, or anything else of the sort is not a means to get educated about an intense, delicate, and potentially dangerous (if done the wrong way) type of sex. It is true what they say: "you don't know what you don't know, because you don't know it." Nobody foresees going into a situation where they're looking to explore something that is supposed to be fun, intimate and exciting while expecting it to devolve into a place of deep shame, trauma or regret that is extremely difficult to reconcile and rebuild from. But it did to me and the consequences were very severe. I now have been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and have symptoms of dissociation (feeling like what is happening isn't real- this is a way to shut off emotional or physical pain). I am distrustful of men, I'm afraid that sex will never feel safe or enjoyable again, and my self-confidence has plummeted. I have had times where I genuinely felt as worthless as I was told I was. And the next partner I have will have to in some way deal with the fallout of what happened in this past relationship. I don't want to subject anyone to that.
When a woman reads a book like "50 Shades" and introduces it to her partner when they don't have experience or knowledge about what they're doing, and one of them is traumatized from it, who is to be blamed and who shall be held accountable? She entered into this voluntarily- she may have even initiated it. If it goes wrong, does it make it her fault? If her partner hurts her, are they accountable for doing what seemed identical to what they read in a book? Does "I'm sorry" make it better? Do they deserve to serve jail time for a rape they never intended to commit or an injury they never intended to inflict? How do we differentiate if that person did it out of malice or by accident? Is the author of "50 Shades of Grey," E.L. James, going to give a shit that your sex play went wrong while she's swimming in the millions of dollars that she made off the sale of her books, film and licensed products? Even if she did, would it change what happened? 100 million copies of this book were sold, largely to women. 1 in 4 women is abused by a partner in her lifetime. The odds are that, while I feel very alone in my experience, I'm not the only one. But as of now, nobody is talking about recovery from BDSM relationships that go wrong. There are no support groups, no resources, no books and no specialized therapy. I know because I've tried to seek it out. There are only instructions on how to practice BDSM correctly and how to prevent it from going wrong in the first place. These resources will tell you that there is always risk involved, but just like preventing STDs, certain measures can be taken to protect yourself and your partner.
There are a lot of resources available for people who want to explore BDSM, that are thorough, accurate and valuable. Sex educators are trained and paid to answer your specific questions in a way that is friendly, non-intimidating and won't result in shame or embarrassment. They're fairly easy to find depending on your local community but are accessible through internet searches as well. You can even privately message me for resources and I'll try my best to point you in the right direction.
There is not a good or responsible way to cut corners when you're exploring anything that involves potentially hurting another person's body, mind or heart. If you care about them (or even if you don't), invest the time to keep both of you mentally and physically safe. The BDSM community prides itself on being "safe, sane and consensual" and those guidelines are in place for a very good reason. Private BDSM practice involves being personally accountable, educated on the subject and in excellent trust and communication with your partner. If there is part of a piece of erotica like "50 Shades of Grey" that intrigues you, know that there is more to a relationship like this than what you are reading. While it is exciting, being careless or sloppy with it can do a lot of harm, so empower yourself with knowledge before observing this piece of literature as empowering in and of itself. Just because it was written for women and is about sex doesn't mean it's empowering or liberating or feminist. The subject, by any account, is the victim of Intimate Partner Violence, and you do not want to be her or experience what she did. The neat little package that the author uses to tie up loose ends in the story- the one about changing a man from a controlling user to a loving, committed husband- is the firmly-held belief of every abused person who continues to hold on to their relationship or repeatedly goes back even after things get dangerous. In real life, their story with their partner is never a happy ending.
A guide for victims of sexual assault and/or
intimate partner violence in the BDSM community
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