In Dublin, Graham Dwyer, a married architect, has been convicted
of the murderof Elaine O’Hara, a childcare worker with whom he was
engaged in a BDSM relationship. The motive was sexual gratification. O’Hara was
vulnerable, suffering from mental health issues, and O’Dwyer exploited this,
banking on the likelihood that her disappearance would be read as suicide. He hid evidence of the murder at the bottom
of a reservoir. If it were not for 2013’s unusually hot, dry summer, that’s
where the truth would have remained, and O’Dwyer would be walking free.
A woman is dead: another
victim of intimate
partner violence. And treating her death with due respect should mean an
examination of the social context that allowed a man to convince a woman that
his sexual desire to stab and kill her was within the bounds of the acceptable.
It should mean attention to the cultural mainstreaming of BDSM.
On Valentine’s Day this year, Universal
Pictures released its film adaptation of EL James’s erotic novel Fifty Shades
of Grey. Back in 2012, The Guardian asked meto
review the book to
mark the sale of its ten-millionth copy. I kept it light – riffing on James’s
infamously terrible prose and characterisation, and musing as to whether the
far-away film version wouldn’t leave us feeling a little less glib and little
more, well, worried. The day is come, and I admit a heavier feeling. What is,
at heart, the tale of an abusive relationship in which a reluctant,
inexperienced and infatuated young girl is controlled and beaten by a rich
sadist, is now being offered up as a sweet Valentine’s Day treat for naughty
couples.
BDSM communities have been quick to
distance themselves from Fifty Shades, and, indeed, from any beliefs or
behaviours incompatible with informed, enthusiastic and uncoerced consent. This
is because BDSM communities are often, in my experience, very politically
switched-on places. However, it’s also my experience that kink communities are
reluctant to acknowledge problems with the ideologies underlying their sexual
practices, focusing instead on the pleasure or relationship benefits to be
gained from BDSM.
I’m making this critique not as a judgemental outsider, but as
someone who participates in BDSM behaviours and events and understands the excitement
to be found therein. I’m making this critique not as a kink-shamer, but as a
challenge to myself: what are my reasons and justifications for inviting or
accepting male sexual violence? And, at this point in history, when kink is
becoming ubiquitous, I’m calling on all responsible, egalitarian kinksters to
take a step back from personal desire and pleasure and ask similar questions.
We live in a sexist, racist, homophobic,
transphobic, ableist society. This gross fact informs our identities, our beliefs
and our desires: it’s part of us at the mostfundamental
cognitive level. The dominant ideology in kink communities is that
BDSM creates a sandbox or play space around impulses which clearly have their
roots in sexism or other prejudice. The sandbox allows role play that
expurgates dangerous desires in a cathartic manner, rendering doms safe,
egalitarian people who do not want to hit or kill women in the real word. In
short, it’s believed that BDSM gets violent urges out of our systems.
Except, this isn’t how human psychology
functions. We do not siphon off fiction or play from our social realities.
Rather, the values and norms of the fictions we consume or participate in
suffuse our world views and influence our actions.
Participating in violent sports or
fictions does not always make us less violent, butcan
do the opposite. Watching aggressive pornography does not quell our
desire for aggressive pornography, but, contrarily, can create a desire for
increased violence. If we know and believe this about video games, movies and
porn, then why do we suddenly deny it when it comes to BDSM? Perhaps it’s because
it makes us feel defensive, and so, instead of conscientiously examining a) the
social conditions that have led to our fetishisation of female pain and
submission, and b) the ways in which our sexual practices strengthen and
reinforce those social conditions, we shout “kink-shamer”.
In the 1970s, this issue split second
wave feminism. Activists such as Robin Morgan, Alice Walker and everyone’s
favourite straw-woman Andrea Dworkinwrote
smart, impassioned rhetoric against BDSM. And sex-positive feminists
such as Susie Bright and Candida Royalle reacted just as passionately and
intelligently, with publications and erotic projects proclaiming that they’d
fought long and hard for their sexual liberation, and they weren’t going to be
told what to do with their beds and bodies by priest, pastor or feminist
sister. In 2015, at this powerful moment in feminism and with this sea-change
in social attitudes towards BDSM, I believe it’s time to reopen the debate in a
spirit of solidarity, openness and honesty. I believe, increasingly, that it’s
a matter of life or death.
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