Don’t Leave the Kink at Home, Just Be Kind

As we approach Pride Month, my Twitter feed is again filling up with the same debates we have every year, discussions that I think are important to have as we continue to work towards an open and inclusive society. One of the most divisive topics that comes up every year is the role of kink and fetishes at pride celebrations and whether or not they still belongs in the public spaces which we have fought so hard for.

Not out of fear of backlash, but out of respect for the boundaries of others. One argument for the removal of kink and fetish celebration at Pride events is that many minors attend Pride events and that a minor, by definition, can’t consent to any kind of sexual participation. Now, I’m not going to lie, most of the articles that I’ve read that take a hard stance against kink at pride tend to sound like my mother wrote them, i.e. “I’m fine with whatever people want to do in the bedroom I just don’t want to see it”. On the other side of the debate, the articles tend to exaggerate, i.e. “what’s next, a ban on drag?” Even though no one is calling for that either. Its all very black and white: ban all kink or include all kink and I haven’t seen much discussion of the pros and cons of some initiative like limiting kink and fetish celebration to 18+ events. I’m landing somewhere in the middle of both arguments, as usual.

I should be transparent: my opinions, like those of every writer ever, are colored by my own experiences and my own identity. I’m bisexual and I’m also a sexual violence survivor, which may be the reason I spent a long time identifying on the ace spectrum. I think kink is important to the history of pride, and I also believe that there is value in creating spaces or events at pride without kink and fetish, as a means of including more individuals who identify under the LGTBQIA+ banner.

The LGBTQIA+ community has historically been and even today continues to be portrayed as one of sexual demons and predators. I think there is a place for kink at specific pride events, or 18+ spaces in which to celebrate sexual autonomy and exploration. Some might argue that setting aside spaces for embracing sexual liberation is very similar hiding it away- that it perpetuates this idea of being ashamed of our desires and by extension our love and identities. And there is something to be said for the way in which we as a society perceive something to be sexual. The naked human body, for example, is not in itself erotic. It just exists. Assigning sexuality to merely existing perpetuates both a shame with which we view our own bodies as well as a feeling of ownership or an assumption of a sexual transaction or desire every time we view someone’s body. The history of heteronormative and patriarchal socialization which pushes these feelings of embarrassment onto us for owning bodies also deigns anyone who strays from the norm (such as LGBTQIA+ individuals) as a deviant. So it does make sense to me, why fighting these stereotypes should be an imperative at Pride. And it’s not as if anyone is actively having sex in the middle of a parade.

I do however, feel that calls for restricting kink celebration in pride goes beyond making spaces “kid-friendly”- to simplify it as such is a bit insulting. My main concern is not that kink is shameful, or that paying homage to things like leather culture is bad, or even that kink in public spaces is bad. And it’s not even that I necessarily agree that merely witnessing these things at Pride constitutes a violation of consent.

I believe that there is a difference between shaming someone for kinks, for what they enjoy sexually and asking them to consider other members of the community. Teenagers and pre-teens that are just discovering their identities have a right to celebrate and find community in a space free of pressure. I can’t help but feel as if there is some kind of disconnect between the celebration of sexuality and the need to accept and support minors or other minorities in the community. Whether the issue is within myself and my own socialization, or that there truly is a disconnect in the attempt to normalize sex without acknowledging issues like the prevalence of sexual violence in our society at large or the inclusion of those on the Ace spectrum at Pride events, for example, may be up for the reader to judge.

What about teens going to their first Pride? If they’re lucky enough to have the option to discuss it with their family, which version of pride do you think they’ll have more luck selling? To me, pride is a celebration of who I am. Kink might be something that I enjoy, but it is not who I am, or who I love. To some people, perhaps pride and kink are irrevocably intertwined. For me, pride was the first place I was able to exist as my full genuine self, without fear of getting hurt for standing out, but I was also someone who was very put off by all things sex-related, because in the rest of my life I was terrified that that was all I was to be valued for. Nonetheless, I see the value in normalizing sex, which I feel could go a long way towards eliminating embarrassment about sex and contradicting old puritanical values that perpetuate cultural shame around our bodies and perpetuate abuse and rape culture.

So I’m torn, because I do believe that subversive kink culture and the intertwined ideas of sexual liberation and feminism are valuable to Pride. To completely eliminate an entire subculture of the gay community that for decades has lead the way in subverting outdated ideas of sexual expression and claiming our right to express our affection and desires among the public space is not the answer. Nonetheless, to uphold this history at he expense of all other consideration and future growth feels counterproductive to the community and individualism and encouragement that I also believe Pride should foster.

Surely we can respect the liberation that the normalization of kink has brought to the gay community while maintaining some aspect of Pride that is more inclusive to all? Does the exclusion of some kink really mean the shaming of all of it? Does it truly constitute a step backwards? Perhaps the future of pride means a shifting of its priorities, not an elimination of kink, but a compartmentalization of it, not out of shame this time but with consideration.

I think we are continuously evolving, and these kind of discussion are ones that need to keep evolving with us as we learn more about our communities and each other, and as we decide what kind of future we want to build for ourselves and the next generations of LGBTQIA+ pride goers.