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Nature or Nurture? Nature or Nurture? “So where does your submissiveness fit in? Nature or nurture?” We were tangled up in sheets and each other, talking after play. I liked how we flipped between power exchange, joking, opinionated conversation. But this particular question gave me the binary shudders: why do I have to pick one, where are the in-betweens? (My fluid sexuality leaks into far more than orientation/gender.) Yet, I’m far down the environmental, nurture, socialization side of the spectrum. So I instinctively launched into explaining my submissiveness through that lens. It was not well thought out. Nurture inevitably links to societal power relations. My explanation spun a web of sticky sentences that summarised in something along the lines of: There is relief and release in consenting to be treated as society treats girls and women: inferior, designed to answer to another, and always, always to please others before themselves. It releases me from the daily battle. It’s a relief to take off my war paint, put down my weapons and kneel. Mine is linked to the oppression I feel as a woman. That web felt dark and cynical, confusing and half-formed. It did make sense in parts, but also didn’t. I tried to spin sense into my words but instead ran in circles. He didn’t seem to understand. I felt frustrated, with him, and myself. We moved onto other conversation but I still felt uneasy. Finally, before falling asleep, I voiced it: “You know what we talked about earlier when you asked if my submissiveness is down to nature or nurture?” “Yes.” “My submissiveness isn’t part of me being a victim of anything.” He paused. “It’s important you don’t think that.” “Okay.” “Really important. Please don’t think that.” “Okay, I won’t.” He sounded a little confused. I thought it was obvious and I was too tired to explain. It took roughly a week to see what had happened from a more level-headed position. We all internalize normative views and stigmas, power-based structures, hierarchies of race, gender, class, sexuality, etc. As much as we try to separate ourselves from them - those people with those sexist, racist, homophobic views - it’s structural and we all play a role in reinforcing, reproducing, resisting. We are them. And some discourses stick with us more than others. A big one for me: victim blaming. That means that all those moments of being a victim signal to me that I am weak and guilty, I am to blame and I have failed. It’s only recently that I’ve started to see - not everyone makes that link. But in my mind, there’s a clear path between my victimhood, weakness and my failure (when it comes to myself; interestingly not at all when I think of others). So when I inadvertently linked my submissiveness to victimhood, I also linked submissiveness to weakness and failure. He didn’t make that connection. I did. And then I told him not to connect those dots. Oh, boy. I hadn’t reflected on it until that point, but my submissive and masochistic needs go way back. Back before I felt society’s misgivings towards me being born a . The playground game I created at 8 years old, which was essentially tag with added tickle punishments if you were caught. The delightful rush I got every time I was caught. How I secretly wanted to be caught. The tingling feeling whenever someone close to me took control. My pretend games of being kidnapped and tied to a tree by my childminder’s brother, who would maliciously torture me for his own fun. Those fantasies didn’t feel particularly complicated until I was old enough to receive men’s attention. I didn’t want the catcalls, the groping, the assaults, the violence. Yet I still fantasized about being objectified and used. I craved the pain and the humiliation; I longed for dominance. The catcalls and groping and assault made me feel ashamed, weak, a failure; my young self-had swallowed a whole tub of victim blaming pills and saturated my veins in it. Every time I was victimized, I told myself it was because I had failed. And I believed it. I spent a lot of years trying to prove to myself that I wasn’t weak or a failure. I worked 4 jobs at once. I left my home country. I crossed borders alone. I accepted jobs in countries I’d never heard of. I hitchhiked. I busked in the streets. I lived in a tent for half a year. I carried half my body weight up mountains. And I banished my submissive needs from my mind. There was no room for weakness. That was then. Now I’m happily exploring submissiveness and masochism, and I’m learning that I don’t need to prove my strength to anyone, least of all myself (sometimes it still creeps up on me; it’s a process). And when it comes to figuring out my fantasies vs. sexual violence - the single word of consent makes the jigsaw puzzle complete. Coat it in trust, frame it with communication, and the two are completely different landscapes. I’m also musing that my submissive/masochistic sexuality is more nature-based. Something magic in my genes, just like the queerness and poly-ness. The environmental/nurture side of things, in actual fact, got in the way for a while. And so, later, I was the one to bring the topic back up with him: “You know the conversation we had about my submissiveness being nature or nurture, weeks ago?” We were lying in bed again, after playing. “Yes.” “How I tried to explain it being nurture, but didn’t do a good job, and then asked you not to link my submissiveness to being a victim, despite me doing that exact thing?” He gave me a crooked smile. “Yes.” “I’ve been thinking. I changed my answer.” Another chuckle. “Shall I ask you again, then?” “Yes, please.” “So… where does your submissiveness fit in? Nature or nurture?” freelydone~ "Men need to hunt. She obviously understands this. She’s offering herself as prey. Not easy prey. But willing.” |
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Slave rick
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Great question, I'll have to think on it a bit more. "Men need to hunt. She obviously understands this. She’s offering herself as prey. Not easy prey. But willing.”
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