September 2007

Ah, Poppets, the New England Fetish Flea Market. What a delightful day. As I have mentioned previously, New England in general and Boston specifically are very proper places full of very proper people. And then there’s us.

Twice yearly, the New England Leather Alliance (NELA) hosts the Fetish Flea Market. On those few days, in our little corner of the world, we become the norm. It’s quite a sight: people in skimpy – albeit street legal – PVC, leather and latex riding the subway; grown men and women being led by collars; handcuffs and stiletto heels replacing tennis bracelets and Bass loafers. It’s such a sight that the NELA has to find a new venue every year or two. Afterall, we’re very proper here.

Now, because I am considered a safe place among friends, am known for being nonjudgmental and am exceedingly comfortable with my own sexuality, I tend to be the person who gets asked those questions, the ones we can’t ask anyone else, the dark ones we barely admit to ourselves. It happens year-round but tends to pick up around the times of the Flea. I will mention I am going and within an hour or a day, I am pulled aside for a private, whispered conversation.

“How can someone be a strong individual and a sub?” “How can someone be a gentle human being and a dom/me?” “Is it truly consensual?” “How much does it hurt?” “Does it have to hurt?”

What I’ve learned is these are the questions that get asked but then there is the real question behind the questions: “Is it okay for me to be curious about this or does it mean there’s something wrong with me?” I answer the direct questions but while doing so, I try to answer the question behind the questions as well. And that answer is “You’re just fine.” Because we are. Safe, sane consensual sex is not a moral issue. It’s similar to debating the morality of having brown hair or double-jointed thumbs. We are all sexual beings and that’s okay. Look around any fetish flea market, club or group and you will find very ordinary people. Doctors, teachers, writers, pilots, construction workers, homemakers…you get the idea.
I’ve always thought that if this country had been founded by Pagans looking for religious freedom rather than Puritans doing the same, we would all be a hell of a lot happier. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case so many of us are left hiding our spreader bars, clearing the cookies from our home computers, ashamed to walk into the club, discarding our copies of The Betty Pages in anonymous dumpsters once we’ve read them. In other words, we are left asking the question behind the questions.

Society teaches us there is something wrong with us. I don’t care what society teaches us. “Society” is made up of the same people who are sneaking, hiding, afraid and ashamed. My question is Why are we bothering? Why are we sneaking, hiding, afraid and ashamed? Why must the NELA find a new venue every year or two? Why can’t we just be who we are and let others be who they are? Those are my questions.

My hope for you is that you only have one question. “Am I playing in a way that is safe, sane and consensual?” If the answer is yes, then, Poppets, enjoy! And I’ll see you at the winter Fetish Flea Market.

Until next month, Poppets, take care of you.