There Ain't No 911 This Time.

Gay Pride month is just around the corner, but I really have to wonder right now. What exactly is it we’re proud of this year? The National Equality March is coming up in June. Exactly how do we strive and cry for equality when too many in our own leather & kink community turn a blind eye and deaf ear to the inequalities within it? How can we stand up and be heard as one when too many of the voices of our own aren’t being heard?

Yes, I know this won’t be very popular among many. Questions that address the divisions of our community seem lately to cause further division. Quite frankly, that’s because too many still refuse to see the extent and seriousness of the damage misogyny, racism, ageism, and transphobia are doing to our community. It’s because hearing those asking for nothing more than a seat at the table with everyone else disrupts a false comfort zone or challenges personal world-views. It’s because being called out for having a more privileged position in the community is a reality that encroaches on a self-deceptive sense of social complacency.

Because it means admitting that not a damn one of us in the community is perfectly innocent of having engaged in at least one of those behaviors. It means facing the fact that the paths many of us follow in our lives as leatherfolk and kinksters are strewn with far fewer obstacles and hurdles than the paths faced by our trans brothers and sisters, by POCs, by women. That’s the very definition of privilege. Construe it as you will, but the inescapable fact is that, overall, cis-gendered white males face far fewer obstacles.

When people to whom many in this community look to as role models and leaders either help profligate these inequalities or simply ignore them, all that happens is that those who look to them feel freer to engage in the behaviors - or ignore the ones they see.

If I could draw one analogy, it would be that the house is on fire. Our brothers and sisters who are transgendered or gender fluid, who are POCs, or who are women are right in the middle of it, shouting to both get out of the fire and to draw attention to the flames. Those who truly mean to be allies are taking also shouting out and trying to beat back that fire. And then there are those who seem to think it’s all a false alarm and keep on doing their thing while the fire rages in another part of the house.

There’s only one way that can end if we don’t put out that fire. People can deny it all they want. They can sit there in that other room, but they won’t escape the flames. They can hearken back to days when the house wasn’t burning, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s on fire today. (or the fact that the fire was burning unnoticed in the wall then).

Another stark reality is that there is no fire department that’s going to come and put out that fire. As I said during my step-aside as International Puppy 2014:  “…we have to look out for each other. No one is going to do it for us.” While, at the time, I was directing that at the pup and handler community, today I direct it at all of us. We’ve got a fire to put out, and only by combatting it together can we extinguish it and, hopefully, save the house.

I’ll end this with a call for discussion, for a call to LISTEN and ENGAGE, not REACT and ATTACK. Listen to what’s being said, but avoid internalizing it. The shame isn’t in admitting we’ve all engaged in less-than-perfect behavior, it’s in becoming defensive and shutting down the conversation. Idealist that I am, I believe we have it within us to rise above this. Maybe it’s true that racism, transphobia, ageism, and misogyny aren’t going to vanish from the human condition for a while yet. But our is a history of bucking the main, of coming together in the face of adversity.

We're going to be in serious trouble if we don't.

Education For All

One of the strongest aspects of our community is how much we give to and promote education. Quite honestly, I can’t think of any other that puts such a high value on education as does our community of leatherfolk, kinksters, and fetishists. That we so openly share knowledge and experiences, both laterally and inter-generationally goes a long way toward ensuring we play safe and that the legacy of who and what we are continues. That we have such a huge of wealth of knowledge so willingly shared is one of our greatest gifts to each other.

Why, then, do we run into situations where access to educational opportunities are not made accessible to all who want to avail themselves of what’s being offered?

Before I go any further, let me be clear that I’m not targeting any one particular event or hosting organization or individual. This is in regards to something that happens throughout our community. Let me also be clear that this isn’t about dedicated play spaces. That is an entire discussion unto itself. This is strictly about opening educational opportunities to all.

It troubles me when educational opportunities are not made equally available to all at events and activities that invite mixed attendance, particularly in regards to sexual orientation and, more often, gender identification. It strikes me that such exclusion is a serious disservice to our overall community. It runs the risk of turning away those who feel excluded, people who have their own wealth of knowledge to share or whose willingness to learn would greatly enhance the community overall. Such exclusion runs diametrically contrary to the oft-promoted message that the community is a place for all to explore and to learn.

I’ve learned a lot over the years I’ve been in the community. I’m proud to say that the abundance of knowledge I’ve gained has come from a diverse spectrum of teachers and mentors. In fact, I think that having that diversity has strengthened all I’ve learned. It’s taught me things I need to know that apply universally, and things I need to know that are more situational. It’s made me more keenly aware of differences and specifics that I need to know to make my social interactions more respectful and productive – and my play safer and more enjoyable for all. The intrinsic value of the knowledge shared wasn’t defined by how we identify sexually or according to gender. I’m fairly certain I’m not alone in saying these things.

Likewise, from the point of view of sharing what I know and have learned, I want to be able to do that with all who are interested. We’re all supposed to be part of one overall community, and it feels wrong if I can’t present or teach according to that. It feels like the possibilities that arise from a sharing of knowledge are stunted if we restrict access to it.

Yes, I know I can pick and choose when and where to present or attend educational forums. Quite honestly, however, it feels like that’s a tacit condoning of unnecessary exclusion. I take great pride to be part of a community that encompasses the diversity that ours does. I feel extremely blessed to count among my friends and chosen family people of a wide variety of sexual, racial, and gender identifications. Knowing that some of them could be excluded from something I’m presenting or want to attend for my own education feels wrong.

I don’t know what the answer to this is other than further constructive conversation, to increase awareness and sensitivity to the question. However, I’m willing to be part of that conversation.

Consent Makes Everything Better

All right, one more time for those in the back: If you don’t have consent to touch, don’t touch. If you don’t have consent to touch, it’s assault.

That’s it. End of statement, drop the mic, whatever. Simple, right? Basic social etiquette, right?

Apparently not.

Yes, in the world of leather and kink, we do things that push boundaries. We push the boundaries of sexual expression and of our kinks and fetishes. Even in a world where we push boundaries, however, we also have to respect them. Ours is a culture with a legacy based on rebellion, but to keep our community safe, we still need rules. That’s where consent comes in. Quite simply, it’s respecting boundaries. It’s not imposing ourselves on another without permission. It’s respecting the personal space of others.

Or, to use the standard Red/Yellow/Green of safe words as an example, it’s not pushing unless there is a clear Green. No is No and is always Red. Absent a clear Yes or affirmative, it's not Green. Remember, two of the guiding principles we use in our play are built around consent: SSC (Safe, Sane, and Consensual) and RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink).

The events and venues at which we gather can be highly-charged with sexual energy and playfulness. We do a lot of things in our spaces that we can’t do outside of them. We present ourselves in ways that accentuate our bodies and enhance the sexual and sensual energy. We need those spaces to be safe so that we can do those things and put our sexy as we explore our kinks and fetishes and push our own boundaries. We need to feel safe.

What we don’t need in those spaces is inconsiderate, undisciplined violation of our persons or our boundaries. What we don’t need is people engaging in those behaviors and then shrugging it off as part of their kink or fetish. What we don't need is people claiming they didn't know any better. The sanctity of those spaces depends on everyone within it playing by that one simple rule: consent. We all have the right to be in control of our bodies, and that includes being in control of who touches us and how we let them touch us. No one has the right to take that from anyone.

We go into these spaces and events to enjoy ourselves. Our individual enjoyment of them should not ever be at the expense of someone else. Our bodies are not community property to be handled by just anyone.

So, the question is, how do we impress upon those who share those spaces that consent is paramount? There needs to be both proactive effort through education, and a clear awareness of repercussions. Under no circumstances, however, should the proactive imply, implicitly or explicitly, that anyone invites invasion of their persona space just by how they dress or present themselves.

Some examples to consider:

Yes, when you’re on the elevator or at the bar, that ass you see going by does look good in those chaps or that jock. Or maybe that crotch is just so inviting you have to stick your nose into it. Think twice before reaching out to grab or feel what you’ve not been invited to touch. It’s assault and it’s criminal. Yet how many times in a bar or at an event has someone had their ass or junk grabbed at random? RED, folks! Red! If it’s more than just grabbing and there’s unwanted penetration of any degree, that’s sexual assault, possibly even rape. That’s not fun and games. What it’s called is a felony offense.

Now that same person is letting someone else touch them? That doesn’t give you permission to touch. Don’t do it RED!

Does that shoulder or armor leg look so tasty you just have to sink your teeth into it? Think again before just licking or biting without consent. Again, RED!  If you’re lucky, you’ll end up in jail with nothing broken.

You’ve been invited into the room? Awesome! Meeting new people is great. But an invitation to the room without a clear expectation of what can follow is still YELLOW. Be more clear about expectations before pushing further. At the very least it can prevent an embarrassing situation.

Remember also that consent, once given, is not permanent. For example, the play scene is going along well, and the sub has consented to what the top is doing so far. Then the top starts something else that hasn’t been negotiated and says “No.” That’s a full stop. Consent has been revoked. BIG RED if the top continues.

These are just some examples of what goes on in our community. They've all happened; we've all heard about such things.

One thing we have to do is impress that excuses are not acceptable. It doesn’t matter that the ass you groped was there. It wasn’t put out there for just anyone. Yes, we’re human and many of us like human contact. But it’s better for all if we balance that with respect for personal space and boundaries. It doesn’t matter if your fetish is rubbing lilacs on bare skin or dry-humping a boot or anything else. If the recipient of the action hasn’t consented to it, it’s wrong.

We also have to help people understand that they do not have to feel obligated to just accept these unwanted advances or invasions. We have to help people be comfortable standing up and protecting themselves against it, to know that their bodies are not community property to be handled by anyone who feels the desire. It's not always easy, and we can go a long way by empowering ourselves to not tolerate invasions of our personal space or unacceptable risks to our minds and bodies.

I’m not saying we should avoid interpersonal contact. That’s not what this community is about. What I’m saying is we need to respect what’s not ours and not engage in behavior that are invasive - and the only key to removing the invasive and making it the welcoming is to know the other person agrees to it. What I’m saying is that we, as a community, still need to be proactive in education about consent. And what I’m saying is that we need to reinforce that there are repercussions, both social and legal, for those who violate or disregard that simple rule.

A Community Broken

I’m tired. I’m frustrated. Sometimes, I’m angry. I’m all these things because I’m watching a community tear itself apart, doing it at a time when we need most to come together. Something that used to give me hope and a sense of belonging somewhere has become a patchwork of divided subsets, fenced off and fearfully guarded. Something I used to take such joy and pride being part of has left me wondering where the joy and pride have gone.

I’ll say it: we aren’t a community any more. If we were, we’d be building each other up, supporting each other through the rough times and celebrating each other’s triumphs. But we’re not. We spend more time tearing each other down, jealous of other’s successes. If we were a community, we’d talk to each other, share experiences, and learn from each other. But we don’t. We shout at each other, try to drown out other opinions and perspectives, and trumpet our own experiences as the most viable. If we were a community, we’d listen to each other to understand our differences and find the common ground that works for all of us. But we aren’t a community. We shut out what others say if it conflicts with our worldview and shout at each other; common ground has become the no-man’s land on a battlefront of social discourse.

So what happened?

When I first discovered the leather community (and with it the kink and BDSM communities that co-exist alongside and within it), it was the most amazing circle of support and brother/sisterhood I’d ever encountered. Here was a place where people were welcomed because they were different from the mainstream. Here was a place that celebrated all those things that made us different – and encouraged us to explore them. Here was a place where we could let down our guard against the outside world and be who we are. Here was a community built on the legacy of what had been handed down to it through the years. In DC alone we had close to 10 different clubs, all working together for the community as a whole, and that number grew drastically throughout the Mid-Atlantic and New England areas where clubs throughout those regions came together under one council to coordinate different events and goings-on.

And it was still even more than that. It was a community where people looked out for each other. If someone needed help, a leather brother or sister was there. We built our own organizations toward the goal of helping those who needed a hand. We shared our experiences with those who wanted to learn, and we learned from those who had so much to teach. We talked among ourselves. We stood together against challenges posed us from the outside world and those who would demonize us as perverts and whatever other labels they tried to attach to us. We knew who we were.

Now it feels like so much of that is gone. Where did it go? Why does it seem we have lost our way?

I ask those questions as I look back, and I see something key missing: respect. The respect that held this community together has been worn down and eroded like rock columns in a floodtide. Now the whole structure it once supported is now teetering dangerously. How can you have a strong community when disrespect for the people within it and for the traditions it’s built upon has become so rampant? Quite simply, you can’t.

However, we can have that. There is absolutely no valid reason why the degradation of it has to continue if we care enough to do what needs to be done.

We need to treat each other with respect. We can disagree where we will on those things where our opinions and feelings differ – but there is room in this community for a tremendously large number of differences. What needs to stop is the shouting AT each other, replacing it with talking TO each other – and taking the time to stop talking at all and listen to what others are saying. Treating others respect also means being responsible for ourselves, for our words and for our actions. We need to think about what we say before we say it. Once the words are out, they cannot be taken back. It means accepting that their thoughts and ideas are just as valid as our own.

We need to respect that ours is a world that brings with it traditions – and to respect that tradition does not equate to law. They exist, whether we like or want them or not. Traditions evolve and adapt as they are passed down. It’s inevitable. There is room in this community for all manner of application when it comes to tradition. No one should be dismissing how others apply them within their own lives and relationships.

We have to respect that we are more diverse now than ever before. By respecting that fact, we give strength to those common bonds that bring us together. It also means respecting that not everyone or every subset within the community faces the same problems and challenges. Again, it comes down to listening to each other to understand those different challenges. If we’re going to call ourselves brothers and sisters and anything in between, then we have to stand together to beat those challenges, not divide ourselves into small clusters where no progress will ever be made.

Deep down, I still believe in our community, its potential, and its future. I believe in it because – as I learned when I first came into it – I’m not alone. I’m not the only one who thinks we have something worth building and preserving. But to get there, we have to stop this in-fighting. We have to learn to work through and accept our differences, not berate and despise one another for them. This has to stop being “Us vs Them” or “me vs everyone else.” We’re in this together!

If we’re going to call ourselves a community, we need to return to acting like one. There are enough on the outside who would like nothing better than to see all of what we are implode. Why are we helping them?

Growing Pains

There is a lot that has been happening within the pup and handler community, a lot that really reflects on just how much it has grown in just a relatively short time.  A number of recent discussions, some in which I was involved and others I merely observed readily prove that. Questions are being asked and answered, ideas discussed and traded. Arguments, constructive and otherwise, are happening as passion meets conflicting ideas and the drive to further assert identity is further fueled. At times it can seem almost too much at once to take in, even for those of us within the community – and can be downright confusing to those on the outside looking in.

However, no growth process is without its trials and pangs. From the moment of birth through eventual maturity, there is an endless series of bumps and falls, trials and tribulations, bruises and healing. In this regard, the pup and handler community is no different from any other that’s come before us. From the earliest days of leather down to contemporary fetish and kink, all have endured the same overall growth and the challenges that went with it. Name any one group within the broader leather/kink/fetish community, then look at the history. It’s there.

In thinking about this and in equating the growth process as a continuum beginning with its birth, I think it’s fair to say the pup and handler community has entered its adolescence. I will, of course, expound further on this. First, however, let me make a couple of points clear. To begin with, none of what follows should be construed to judge, implicitly or explicitly, that any particular thing we do is either right or wrong. Those discussions and disagreements are part of where we are in our growth, and this is in no way intended to either validate or vilify the beliefs and practices within the community. Secondly, I do have more than a passing background in psychology, with emphasis on developmental psychology. As such, I applied practical ideas and concepts to my thinking. Lastly, combining the first two, I don’t purport or believe myself to be any kind of expert on the overall pup and handler community. It is much too wide and varied, regionally and worldwide, for any to make such a claim. I’m just one pup sharing his ideas.

So, why would I say the contemporary pup and handler community has reached its adolescence? For starters, I use the qualifier “contemporary” to keep this focused on its emergence within the broader leather/kink/fetish community. Pups and pup play have been around for decades, even centuries. The pup and handler community as we know it today, however, only goes back a few years, about a decade or so (the first International Puppy was in 2001). That’s where you see the beginnings of what we have today in terms of clubs and organizations, networks and families built around pup-centric norms. So we’re still the new kids on the block when looked at as part of the cross-section of the broader community.
Before I go any further, I just want to point out that I say “we” because I’m part of it, one among many, and I’ve done a lot of things that this describes myself. It’s only been in looking back that I got a new understanding out of all of it.

Like all others before us, we had our infancy. We grew from something that came before us, in this case the leather/kink/fetish community. In some ways, one could make the case that they are the “parent” figure in this model. We had to learn our way in a world that was already there, akin to learning to walk (two steps and then a dead run). We bumped into things along the way, sometimes fell because we didn’t know any better. We had those that were there and willing to help, trying to guide us (some of whom we call packbrothers and sisters but were also part of what was already there). We had to endure a lot of “Oh, aren’t they cute” as we went. The tail pulls…how much they seemed at the beginning like the stranger or relative we see rarely making silly and/or annoying goo-goo faces.

We had our childhood years. For a good span, the focus was mainly on pup play and having fun. Cute gave way to sometimes being watched with smiles and encouraging laughter, sometimes with disapproving glares. We got upbraided by our "parent" for certain misbehaviors, and sometimes we even got petulant in our responses. We were sure we could ride that bike without training wheels for the first time, then wonder what the hell happened when we fell. But others were there to help us dust ourselves off, bandage the scrapes and get back on that thing so we could keep going. Then we put cards in the spokes even though some thought it annoying. Still, for the most part, we were glad that the broader community "parent" was there – we still weren’t quite ready to make our part of the world our own just yet. We hated the rules sometimes, even told the “parent” that we hated them or thought they were stupid. But we weren’t really challenging them yet.

Now we are. Now more than ever we are at that place where we’re working, sometimes even struggling, to define and assert our own identity. Now we’re at the place where we are taking things that were in the world we’ve come into and trying to adapt them to fit our emerging world-view. Now we’re looking at the concepts and traditions that have come before and defining where they fit into our emerging sense of self – if they even fit at all. We don’t want to ride the bike anymore. We want the keys to the fucking car so we can go out and have a good time!
And now we’re at that place where we are absolutely convinced that the “parent” can’t possibly understand what we’re going through. We’re convinced that all they want to do is rein us in and ruin our lives. We don’t want to be treated like little kids because we aren’t kids any longer. We’re adults now, damn it, and we’re going to prove it! At times, it goes to the extreme of outright rebellion against the rules and limits the “parent” has set out – in this case those traditions and norms associated with the leather/fetish/kink community. We don’t want limits; we want to explore and discover for ourselves! We don’t want to sit at the kids’ table at holiday dinners (think events). We’re grown up now and want to be with the adults. Dammit, we ARE adults, right? They can’t tell us how to run our lives, right?

Like most adolescents, we want to be independent of the “parent.” We want to be free to live our own life and do our own thing. We don’t want to be looked down on as petulant adolescents; we want to be accepted and treated as equals.

And, you know what? This is actually completely normal. There’s not a single thing wrong with any of this or feeling like we do. It’s all part of the growth and maturing process. It cannot be argued that the contemporary pup and handler community has come a long way. We’ve grown in size. We've grown in experience. We’re beginning to define and establish a self-identity as a community. We’re challenging ideas and boundaries as we begin to assert that identity.

In going with this reasoning, let’s also take a look at it from the “parent” point of view. How can they understand us if they don’t feel like we do? The thing we forget is that they have felt and do feel like we do. They’ve been where we are. Some may have forgotten that, but it’s nearly universally true. There isn’t a single one of us who came into the community knowing everything about it. Individuals and groups alike, we were all new to this community once. Everything we’re enduring, others endured before us. The learning and the exploring, the self-discovery and identifying, the rules and the limits and what they meant at the individual level. Every section of the broader community that came before us faced these same trials and growing pains – and all have emerged with a strong sense of self identity and a firm idea of their place within the whole (which is not to say they are without current challenges and difficulties – many remain).

No one likes being made to feel they’re being looked down on. It’s an uncomfortable feeling at best. If it continues too long, it breeds anger and resentment. Very rarely does it leave an opening for truly constructive conversation. The paradox of equal footing, however, is that it has to be earned but the process of earning it slows itself and gets bogged down by frustration. It can become a self-defeating cycle if unchecked.

Fortunately, we have it within ourselves to check it. It takes only three things: respect (both for oneself and for others), two-way communication, and an open mind. These aren't merely suggestions or goals, they’re imperatives. All three of these are absolutely necessary to get through this period of growth and change and reach that point where differences are more widely respected than refuted. When communicating, it’s not just about what we have to say. It’s about listening to what others are saying and being open-minded enough to maturely discuss the differences. It’s not just defending a point of view, but accepting that there is room for many times many points of view.

And lastly, of course, if we keep with the idea that while we, as a community, may very well be in our adolescence, those of us in it are adults. That’s where we can run into the problems that arise among us and between us and the broader community. While it’s perfectly normal for an adolescent to endure and feel all those things I have described, as adults we can’t expect to continually act out along those lines and not be called on it. Whether we like it or not, we are adults in an adult world that has expectations and established norms for acceptable behavior. Being adults, we’re expected to – and should – act like adults.

We, the pup and handler community, want very much to be seen for who and what we are, not defined by what others believe we are. The number and intensity of ongoing discussions and activities shows that. We can and will achieve that, but we have to remember also that – even as we are building things unique to us, we’ve also adopted a number of practices and symbols that were there before us and are working to adapt them to our world-view. That won’t happen without disagreement and misunderstanding. That we’re doing this in an age of social media, an arena that’s far more transparent than any before us, it all stands out even more. Those looking in see more, and in doing so, may understand less. However, it’s really on us to help them understand what we’re building. It’s on us to explain those things that are unique to us and to show that we do respect the value of those traditions we’re adapting. To show that we’re not discarding or disrespecting them but are finding a way to make them important to us. We can be the mature entity we’re struggling to convince others that we are. We don’t have to shove aside those who came before us. We have to show we’re determined to take our place beside them.


We, the "parent" play a part in this as well. We have to remember that the pup and handler community, being newer and demographically younger, hasn't experienced the same world we did earlier on. The pup and handler community grew in a different environment that has done much in setting the values and ideals it holds close. The people in the pup and handler community don't always feel the same as those in the "parent" community - and telling them they should will only increase the hostility and rebellion. Gone are the days when the child can be sent to their room or the adolescent grounded from going out. The situation cannot be corrected through punishment. Now it takes understanding - and that includes understanding that the pup and handler community is establishing its unique self-identity. The "parent" can only teach what has come before, it cannot dictate how those lessons are applied.

Overall, that is the transition from adolescence to adulthood. It takes all of us to achieve that. And it doesn’t change the fact that the world isn’t a fully friendly place, that there are just as many challenges before us as there are behind us. But at least we don’t have to face them in endless conflict.

Is it an easy transition? Not even close. Is it frustrating? Sometimes beyond words. There are times we’ve all felt like we’re beating our heads against a glass door. The question I’m posing here though: Do we keep running into that door with our eyes and ears closed and then blaming others for the bloody nose, or do we talk to the people on the other side of the glass and eventually open the door?

A Community of People

Something has been troubling me lately, a gnawing feeling that rests in the pit of my stomach. Nebulous thoughts that remain in the back of my mind, defying all efforts to be put into words. It’s not so much a new feeling, but rather one that’s been growing for awhile. The more I’ve tried to grasp it and explore it, the more the feeling grew without clarity, leaving me unable to translate it into clear thought.

However, through happenstance and the unexpected, it finally came together. Mainly via unrelated comments and conversations, peripheral incidents, and other thoughts of my own that seemed unconnected. It took stepping back and almost taking the role of an outsider looking in to finally bring it all together into one question:

When did the leather and kink community lose its focus on people?

Let me say right now, right up front, that this is not an attack on those various aspects and facets of our community that give it depth and character. This isn’t a tirade against contests and titleholders. It’s not a statement that the issues facing our community or segments within it are without substance or merit. This isn’t to detract from those relationships and lifestyles that have come to be characteristic of our community. This isn’t to diminish or dismiss the traditions that have come down through the years and lend depth and perspective to who we are.

By no means is this a statement that I’m in any way an expert on the leather and kink community. Far from it. I’m just one pup in a big world whose experiences and understanding are only a very small part in a huge mosaic. However, mine isn’t the only voice saying that things have changed, and not necessarily for the better.

When I first began to explore the leather/kink community back in 2002, one of my earliest encounters was with a small group of men who belonged to a group called the DC boys of Leather. I remember watching how they interacted with each other, the fun they were having being themselves, doing what they were doing. I remember how one of them, seeing my interest, came up and talked to me and took the time to introduce me to his club-brothers and friends. I remember how captivated I was by the brotherhood these guys had amongst them. It didn’t take me long to realize here were kindred spirits, that the DC boys of Leather was something I wanted to be part of.

It didn’t take long after joining the DC boys that I learned that same sense of brotherhood I sensed there was shared far more widely. Other people and other clubs were part of that same community, sharing and enjoying many of the same things, learning from one another, sharing not just experiences and knowledge, but true brotherhood and fun.

That’s what drew me into the community. The brotherhood and the fun. Kinky play and sex, as much as I enjoy them, quickly became secondary to that foundation. To this day, even though I’ve had fun and good times nearly every step of the way, those early days remain my fondest memories. Yes, I’m a former titleholder (and back then I held many titleholders in awe), but that wasn’t why I chose to be part of the community. It was the friendships with men and women I came to call brothers and sisters.  It was about the camaraderie and brotherhood that brought us all together. It was about being part of something that was greater than myself and thrived because we all came together.

It was about the people.

But now, something has changed. The community has changed. I have changed. I know it can’t all be for the better because I look at myself and realize I don’t like some of the things I see now. I look around me and see, not that empowering brotherhood, but division and hostility. Where there used to be sharing of ideas and experiences, I look around now and see angry debate and close-minded dismissal. Where there used to be cooperation toward the betterment of all, I see so much close-minded dismissal and bitterness.

Where it used to be about FUN, it’s becoming an arena where a light-hearted banter ends up with tempers flared and teeth bared.

Where it used to be about acceptance, it’s becoming a cycle of Us vs Them. The hate and vitriol has taken on a frightening life of its own, to the point that we’re becoming our own worst enemy.

Where it used to be about people, it’s becoming more and more about tearing people down. Brotherhood has given way to clusters of circled wagons and a cross-fire of unyielding ideals. Those fields where fertile exchange lead to growth almost seem to be becoming fewer and fewer.

What’s scary is that many of us don’t even realize we’ve played a part in this. In looking at myself, I see that I’ve made bad choices, done and said things that became part of these cycles. I see them now, and I confess myself ashamed. All I’ve ever wanted is to contribute to and build a stronger community – but some of my words and actions had the opposite effect. Now I’m choosing to accept responsibility for those actions and choices. More importantly, I’m seeing I have to move beyond them and be that person in whom I can take pride.

I wish I could say definitively where things began to change. I can’t. In looking only at my own experience, all I can see clearly is that where I was and where I am are vastly different.  Ultimately, any such exercise would likely be futile. Most likely, it’s been a number of seemingly minor things with perhaps a few major turning points here and there. And maybe it doesn’t have to matter where it changed. It’s enough to recognize that things have and that we have the power within us to make a difference.

What matters is that we’re a community, and community is made up of people. No two of us are exactly alike. We all have our own perspectives and personalities, our own experiences. We all have our likes and dislikes. No, we are not all going to agree on everything; there is no kumbaya moment to be had. But it doesn’t follow that we have to keep tearing each other down, dismissing as lesser someone just because they’re different from ourselves. Difference and disagreement are no justification for disrespect and bitter disregard. We’re all equal, and we’re all in this together.

This can’t be about waiting for others to change. All that accomplishes is the continuation and further degradation. We can’t force others to change. The only people we can change is ourselves, and it has to start there.  

I wasn’t there in the earliest days of leather. Anything I know about those days has come to me through stories and shared experiences. From those I’ve been given to understand that part of what propelled the leather culture forward was the brotherhood and the fun that came with it. I know from those days come many of the traditions that, today, many hold to be central to who we are.

What I do know is that the past, and the traditions we’ve built on the brotherhood that comes from it, won’t mean a thing if we don’t have a future.

Farewell 2015, Hello 2016

Another year draws down to its final hours. Soon, 2015 will be another for the history books. Can’t say, though, that I’m sorry to see this one go. In the measure of calendar years, 2015 was one of the hardest in my adult life. It began with conflict; it ends having seen some very difficult, very deeply-felt losses. I won’t deny there were some highs in 2015 as well, or that I was fortunate enough to be part of things that are truly wonderful and that I got to meet some awesome new friends along the way while enjoying time with old ones.

 

I had to say farewell to my younger brother, so suddenly gone from this world. For all our differences and disagreements, for all those fights that only brothers can get into, I miss him. Fortunately, the good memories far outnumber the bad, and those are what I carry with me into the new year. However, I also carry some poignant lessons, and the one I’ll share here is this: Don’t put off time with family. If I hadn’t listened to my mom and my husband and agreed to a short visit to upstate NY in July, I would have missed one last visit with my brother. One month later, he was gone.

It’s somehow ironic that in that last conversation, he said something that turned out to be what I needed to begin the slow healing from a loss that preceded his passing. However, that earlier loss – and a third that came later – I haven’t talked about openly. Much of it I still won’t.

I spent a lot of this past year in quiet inner turmoil (and, yes, sometimes it was neither entirely quiet nor inward, but I’m human and sometimes our emotions get the best of us). Time spent blaming myself; time lost to anger and hurt. Time spent trying to comprehend things that happened; time lost to believing I wasn’t good enough. Time spent realizing mistakes I’ve made; time lost to recognizing not all the mistakes made were mine.

I’m not ashamed to admit I reached a point where I felt completely beaten. I just wanted to pull away from everything. Just crawl into my cage and lick my wounds. In retrospect, I see that, to some degree, I did pull away. I know now that I had to.

It was the only way I could hear that quiet bark still inside, one I’d forgotten how to hear. It was the only way I could find what my brother was reminding me of; the only way I could see again that lesson in balance that a particular young man has a way of showing me. It was the only way I could find within that strength to stand up again, to begin believing in myself again, and to see past the shadows to all those positive things which brighten my life. Maybe I was beaten – that doesn’t mean I was defeated.

How could I be? This year I became an executive producer of the International Puppy Contest. I got to be part of community pack history as IPC got the first female pup titleholder (yay Incus!). One of my own dreams came to fruition with the first Mid-Atlantic Puppy & Handler Contest. I was nominated for this region’s Pantheon of Leather award (well deserved, Todd!).

More than that, though, my husband, my family (bio and chosen) and my friends with whom I have shared so much – and will still share so much. Even through all that darkness, I never forgot you were all there, and you all helped me through it. Through all of you, I found my way back. And for that, there are not enough words to express how grateful I feel.

It's not all ended yet, I know that. But I know it's not all darkness and struggle now. It's accepting what is, learning from it, and moving forward. 2016 is going to have some rough spots. But, ya know, overall it’s looking pretty good.

So, to 2015, I'll borrow the title of the last episode of MASH: Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen.

to 2016: Here's to another 365 days of things to learn. 365 days of fun with friends and family. 365 days of living life to the fullest.

Happy New Year to All of You!

Applying a Lesson in Progress...

I want to start off by apologizing for letting things slide with the Pupping Out Project since this past summer. I had hoped and intended to launch a new series of interviews with interested pups and handlers that could be shared with the community, an initiative that will span several months and hopefully get a lot of personal stories out there.  At first I was kind of embarrassed that I’d let things slide so much. Yes, real-life needs and circumstances demanded a lot of time and attention. Still, though, I felt like I was failing in something that’s actually very important to me. And, in that light, I wasn’t sure how to re-ignite it.

But, then, I realized that something was happening that is actually very prevalent to what the Pupping Out Project was created for: sharing our experiences so that they might help someone else out there. This isn’t a “coming out of the kennel” experience. I’ve shared my own story on that already. However, it is one I know I’m not alone in experiencing; a difficulty that I’ve personally heard other pups talk about.

I had lost that feeling of connection to my inner pup. I don’t know how or when it began to happen. Likely, I never will. Somehow though, I started to become afraid of going to that place within where once I needed no coaxing at all to reach. It was only through a storm of change that I even began to realize I felt it was missing, that I’d cut myself off from it. Without it, I wasn’t centered or balanced mentally, emotionally, or spiritually. Without it, I was trying to hobble forward on one leg as if I still had two. In that light, it’s really no wonder that I wasn’t getting very far.

The only reason I didn’t fall flat on my snout is that I was never really alone. And, while that’s another story, how important it is to this one cannot be understated. I say that because part of the realization came through those I call friends and family, some of whom I’m connected to more via social media than through in-person contact.

Yet now, as it reawakens, I feel more like the playful pup, more like the person who knows he’s part of something greater than himself. I’m beginning to feel centered again. I’ve actually begun to understand even better what being a pup means to me. It’s not the sum total of who or what I am as a person; it’s far more a part of my core that I realized, touching many aspects of my daily life.

I appreciate better the nature of that inner pup: a service Alpha pup. Maybe it’s odd that I would lose sight of that. It’s where my journey as a pup began (well, not necessarily an alpha, but definitely a service pup). By the same token, though, that nature has grown. In the past, it was in service to my former Mister. Today, I’m a stray, but the potential for fulfillment as a service pup is no less. In the past, I explored my dominant side. Today, I’m learning that it was never about trying to separate the pup and that dominant-oriented energy, but rather allowing it all to meld together. Then and now, it wasn’t supposed to be about extremes, but accepting it all as part of the whole package.

It’s been learning that, while in everything I do I try to give my best, the best I have to give comes when I’m connected to and grounded by that inner pup.

A Thought for Thanksgiving

“So, what are you thankful for this year?”

I have to be honest, that question has kind of thrown me this year. It isn’t that I’m an ingrate, or that life hasn’t brought me things for which I should be grateful. Overall, my life is pretty rich, and I’m thankful for all that has made it that way. At the risk of sounding like I’m spouting platitudes, I am grateful beyond words to still be with my wonderful husband, that I have a warm and caring family, that I have a job and my health, that I have been given opportunities to serve and be part of the community. Words can’t adequately express how lucky I feel for all of that.

Yet, I’d be remiss if I didn’t reflect another way as well. This year, particularly the second half of it, has been a time of some deeply-felt loss. Two collars given by me with love sit now in my drawer. I had to bid farewell to my younger brother, gone suddenly from this world. A lot over a relatively short period of time. I don’t pretend to believe I’ve bounced all the way back; the scars and the sadness are still fairly fresh. Yes, I pulled back from many things for a time recently. Sometimes, it’s just what has to be done, the only thing that can be done, to again move forward.

What does this have to do with being grateful? Am I grateful for the actual loss? Of course not.

I’m VERY grateful I listened to my Mom and to my husband, who talked me into a summer trip to upstate NY – it turned out to be the last time I saw Bobby before he passed. Something I haven’t shared with anyone, though, was that he looked right at me and said, “You’re not very happy.” He didn’t ask why; I told him only a little. Once he knew things were fine between me and Ken, he just shrugged and said to just bark, that I’d feel better.

I didn’t realize it then, but he was reminding me of what I needed to remember. It wasn’t until after he was gone that I really reflected on that and so many other things. Maybe he saw what I wasn’t seeing; that I’d lost my center. That one comment, made playfully and maybe even a little off-handedly, ended up resonating deeply, and I’ve thought on it quite a bit since then.

Meaning to or not, he pointed me toward embracing that one part I needed to re-embrace, the part I was always afraid to embrace when things got dark. And, while it took me a while to understand that, now I get it.

And, now, the next part of the journey begins. Where at first I thought it a retreating or going back, I see now it's a re-awakening to something new yet familiar...

Bobby, I probably didn’t say thank you enough. And sometimes you didn’t hear me when I did. Wherever you are now, though, I know you can hear this one: THANK YOU!

*BARK*

Harvesting the Soul at Mabon

While this Sabbat of Mabon denotes the start of the harvest, It's also symbolic of clearing the fields in preparation of the Spring planting to come. So, in that spirit, I can only reap what has sprung from the seeds I planted and hope that the intentions in the seeds I am about to plant anew fare better in the future.

From my very earliest days in this community, I've always felt it was home. Here I found a place where I could belong; a place where I can be me and explore the potentials and possibilities of what may come from that. I found, not just friends, but family and kindred spirits. People who accepted me and encourage me to accept myself and to embrace those things that make me different. People with whom I could celebrate those differences rather than be ashamed of them.

From the very beginning I've been fortunate enough to have wise and caring people to teach me those things that have come before while encouraging me to balance those things with new ideas. Friends and mentors who have, time and again, encouraged me to walk and to share my own journey, to have faith that it's leading me to where I'm meant to be. No matter who I met or where I went, I found there was always something for me to learn, something new to experience.

I'm not sure I could ever fully quantify all that I've been given over the years. These gifts are greater than anything I've ever known, gifts beyond price and far more than I would have ever expected when first I ventured into the community. My journey has been made possible through these gifts. It means far, far more than I can say, and all the gratitude I feel in my heart seems still insufficient to do it all justice. Nevertheless, I am immensely grateful for all I have been given, all I've found, and for all the things in which I've been fortunate enough to share.

I learned long ago that the best things come about when it's a collective effort. One alone can never accomplish as much as a team or club or group working together. I've been fortunate enough to be a part of clubs and groups that have brought forth amazing things for the community. Nearly all of my greatest joy has been working with others toward a common goal; my greatest rewards seeing others enjoy what the group put together. What better feeling than to celebrate a job well done with friends and brothers?

While growing up, I was taught that the most important gesture of gratitude is in sharing what you've been given. To say "thank you" for a gift, while heartfelt, may fall flat. But to take what's been given and to share it or to pay it forward, that shows true appreciation. A gift kept to one's self does little more than collect dust on a shelf. A gift shared with others and, in its time passed on to others, keeps its luster and brings joy to more than just one.

That is how I've tried to carry myself since finding a place in this community. From very early on I've tried and endeavored to share all that I've been given. From slave to leatherboy to pup, from sub to switch, it has always been to me about giving back. Every gesture and thing shared with me, I've believed I've been grateful to received it. Every door that was opened, every opportunity given, I've always thought it important to make sure those are paid forward. I've always tried to put my best foot forward and to give things my best. Those things into which I put my energy and effort weren't meant for me, but to give something to others. At the end of each day, it wasn't about the kudos (which were nice and encouraging, don't get me wrong) but seeing that others had found something in which they found enjoyment or connection or maybe even a better glimpse of themselves. No matter what was at hand, I've always tried to do the right thing, to do whatever brings the best benefit to the most people.

I don't claim to be perfect, though. I'm human and, being human, I make mistakes. Sometimes my judgment has been off; sometimes I got caught in the moment. Sometimes I reacted before I thought it through and so let my feelings get in the way of what I was trying to accomplish, or worse, didn't think things through enough. Sometimes I took on too much and came close to burning myself out. Sometimes I fell short of the mark in what was needed to get a job done. Sometimes I stepped out on the wrong foot; sometimes my best wasn't enough or I could have done better. There are still bootprints on my backside from where I got a much-needed kick in the complacency. I try to own my flaws and shortcomings and to learn from my mistakes.  

Through all of it, though, my intent and goal has always been to support the community and the people in it, to put energy and time into those things that better the whole, and to give to the people in it as best I can. My grandfather once told me to set as a goal how I want to be remembered in life and then live my life toward that goal. That's the one I work toward.

One thing I NEVER intended is that anyone should feel hurt or offended by anything I've done, be it through action or inaction. There is room enough in this community for all to shine, for all to find their place. And, if by action or inaction I somehow left someone feeling otherwise, then I failed. It's not how it's supposed to be; it's not what I was taught. Somehow, somewhere, I failed to give back what has been given me. I fell short of what it is I work so hard to accomplish.


But, just as mere words cannot fully express the true depth of gratitude, neither can they fully express how deeply sorry I am for any hurt feelings. As the best way to show gratitude is through action, then by action I must likewise show my sincerity and resolve to redress any wrongs that happened along the way. I can only own the mistakes I've made, try to my utmost to correct what can be corrected, and make sure I'm mindful enough to not repeat them.

I'm no one special. I'm just one pup in a pack of many, one soul in a community of many good ones. Just one who wants to keep giving back all he's been given along the way. In this season of harvest, the bitter grain has to be reaped along with the sweet. In its place I want to plant new seeds that are the lessons that I'm learning.