Okay, I thought I was done with the whole Feministing BDSM blowup thing, having had one of those Painful Revelation posts and some vicious snark and all, but I forgot that one of the critical components to a complete internet blowup arc was something full of wack.
And boy, do I have the wack.
The wack is here, from the previously quoted becstar:
How do hetero submissives deal with the fact that they are submitting to a male though? In my mind it's one thing to be a sub but another to not know where your partner's fantasies are coming from. I just cannot imagine why a man would want to dominate a woman wihout it having misogynistic overtones (afterall men are taught there whole lives that women are their sex objects - how is then being allowed to be dominate different?)
I almost don't know where to begin. Actually, I really don't know where to begin.
I mean, we bring the crazy right out with the unstated but obvious presumption that one would "know where your partner's fantasies are coming from" if that partner is of the same sex. I don't know if this is the wombly overmind (thanks for the phrase, sis) thinking by which someone with boobs can transfer sekrit knowledge to someone else with boobs, or the even creepier all-women-are-one-woman assumption that every single woman's fantasy life is rooted in the same stuff. No matter how different the life experiences, background, or actual desires of those women might be: Teh Experience Of Womynhood trumps all. No need to engage in such risque practices as actually talking with one's partner about what one needs to know, the moon time magic will solve everything.
And Teh Experience Of Womynhood considers partnering with/submitting to a male problematic. I'm glad to have been informed of this, my uterine psychic antenna is currently full of placenta, and that totally buggers up the reception, so I didn't get the memo by the usual routes. Now, I've never been not-heterosexual, but I imagine the process for selecting a compatible partner at least somewhat transcends orientation: meet people, evaluate their attractiveness by whatever set of criteria one prefers, evaluate their compatibility by whatever set of criteria one prefers, ascertain their interest, if relevant factors are go, work it out from there. If one doesn't want to be treated like a sex object, or only wants that under certain conditions or circumstances, or whatever else, then that's part of the whole selection process, and one finds one of the many, many people who meet one's orientational requirements and isn't also an asshole.
And if I were more inclined to gender-bash based on OMG-people-treated-me-horribly, I for damn sure wouldn't be pursuing my intensely psychological set of kinks with someone of the sex with a member that attempted to systematically destroy my sense of reality and my trust in myself in order to wipe my psyche clean and remake it into a handy little dress-up doll for their fantasies. I'd stick with the sex that had one member try to rape me; the risks are a hell of a lot lower.
(I'm sorry, what? I need to turn in my Experience Of Womynhood membership card now? What's that you say? Sorry, I can't hand it over, it was lost in the mail and never turned up, and I couldn't be arsed ordering a replacement. Take it up with the Post Office.)
"Misogynistic overtones." I wonder what this person's image of domination is. What I see is intense eroticism, care and protection, guidance, devotion, honor, dedication; what I experience is support and the opportunity to be supportive, an environment where I am both whole and valued as I am. Most of the "misogynistic overtones" I've encountered have been in people who wanted to question my kink, with words like 'victim' and 'abuse' and 'brutalisation' and 'violence', painting me as the eternal doormat needing rescue or rehabilitation. Poor woman can't make her own choices, brainwashed by a man, et cetera et cetera and so forth. Hell, dominant women get this too: it's all about the mens, and they should give up their power to suit other people's notion of what power looks like.
Mostly I'm left with this huge sense of rupture between me and wherever that came from. And, y'know, the whole gimmick of this blog is "I feel like a space alien"; it's not often that I'm quite sure that someone's operating from a planet I'm even less familiar with than Earth. A planet with intense gender essentialism and divisions, a female hivemind, and a concept of domination that I can't even perceive, let alone theorise how to describe. Even if I fancied getting kicked in the head enough to make a posting login on Feministing or whatever, I wouldn't begin to know how to respond to that.
Colorless green ideas sleep furiously! Purple monkey dishwasher!