Mar 202009
 

I had occasion today to enjoy a quiet moment in a hotel room high up above the city, idly gazing upon a broad swath of terrain from the cold blue of the Bay to the fog-lapped crests of Twin Peaks.

Meandering thoughts mostly disconnected…some deceptively so…were doing their best to distract me from remaining in the moment.

I was exhausted from the previous night.  Thursday was the opening ceremony and show for the International Ms. Leather Contest, and I’d spearheaded a campaign to have my employer represented by sponsoring one of the many “Receptions” that this event offers to attendees. This is a fairly low-bandwidth way to do Community Outreach among the Leatherfolk, and as one of the handful of kinky people at my company, I’m in a unique position to cross the streams, so to speak, and have my day-job find its rightful place in the BDSM community.

However, I hadn’t anticipated being physically exhausted and having a voice-over recording that same day. It was going to be a pretty exhausting end to the week, and I was near tears several times on Thursday.

Ain’t nothing like being in the midst of Bloody Abdominal Injustice while having to haul around cases of water and wine and bags of snacks.

Thankfully I had a co-worker (Yaaaay!) who was also volunteering at IMsL, and she was there to keep things going.

Somehow, we did it.

Of course, we had everything set up and ready to go, free schwag primed, and then…no one showed up.

We sat for 10 minutes, 25 minutes.

A few people trickling in mentioned that the opening show was still going, and that many attendees were still there, and that was why the reception wasn’t filling up.

But when it did, boy howdy, did it ever!

Old habits die hard and I snapped into the smile-on-the-face-super-attentive-chatting-and-laughing-party-hostess…make sure the cheese is out and the chips are there and the bottles are open and there is enough wine and cheese and…and…and…

Fret not. We rocked it. Everyone was pleased.

Several people who had joined me for my recent class on “Race Play” were in attendance, and took a moment to tell me that not only did they think the class was important for the community, but that they were personally grateful, to me, for doing it.

Their timing couldn’t have been more critical, because not long before that I’d learned of some less-than-optimal reactions that some people are airing publicly.

People who don’t know me, who haven’t heard what I have to say. Or, in one case, someone who took my words and torqued them into a most damaging and fearsome misrepresentation of my reality.

And then we have the nauseating nadir: people who openly threaten violence if they ever were to walk into a play party and see a race play scene happening.

Pardon me if I take this shit personally.

It is tough enough to find play-partners because I am a shy freak and exceedingly picky, selective and intimidation resistant.

And now, am I supposed to tell a prospective play-partner than he or she may be subject to rude speech, threats of confrontation or even physical assault simply for playing with me?

Really???

Meet my new DOM. Too bad my safeword is "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

Meet my new Dom! Though, it is rather troubling that my safeword is "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

Well, it is convenient then that my play partners tend to be really…really big! And trained in martial arts and strapped with stun guns…and with sharp pointy teeth…so there! 

Sigh.

Yes, I acknowledge that it may be bluster and bullshit.

But the more I sort through this, the more I wonder what the fuck is up with my fellow perverts.

I wonder what about this not uncommon fantasy it so dangerous it drives people to threaten physical violence.

And I wonder why none of these people actually care to be open, and interact with me.

No, I know why.

It is easier to scream from your perch of fear than it is to try to settle in and confront your own demons on someone else’s terms.  Because I think differently than others, and there is a chance you might see me as human, your Comfy Throne of Righteous Indignation now teeters on the edge of reason.

Is it so hard to empathize?

I’ll say it here and loud and clear.

If you hear some crazy bullshit about me, and you aren’t sure whether or not it is accurate, you know who the fucking authority on Mollena is?

OK, aside from God…

Ya, that would be me.  I’ve been stuck in here for almost 40 years:  I know my way around, and I give frequent tours. Stop and and have a cup and I’ll tell you what is going on, OK?

As I stood behind the improvised bar at the party, I managed (I think) to be welcoming and I smiled and introduced myself to as many people as I could. Many old friends were there, and it was lovely to catch up. Hopefully no one could hear my insides whimpering and feeling clumsydumboutofplacecrampyexhaustednervous and anxious.

At one point I overheard and adjacent conversation in bits and starts. There were several Black woman gazing at me intently, and I overheard “Mo Williams…” and “Yeah, she did the “Race Play Class…” and I tensed up. I couldn’t tell from their expressions what their take on that was. 

We were formally introduced and they said that they were sorry to have missed the class, and that they had initially planned on coming to see it, but couldn’t make it. Thing is, they aren’t local. They were planning on coming form Canada to see the class. I confess I was very taken aback and nervous. I had wild fantasies of a squad of Black Domme Avenging Secret Agents sent to take me out for setting back the evolution of our people.

But that wasn’t quite it.

I chatted with them a bit, and as it was a rather loud and busy party, it wasn’t conducive to a more private discussion. But we made a date to chat for a bit the next day.

I hope to talk further, possibly, about working with these folks in terms of BDSM oriented education.  They had done their homework and had some really provocative questions for me about my classes, my approach, myself.

Plus, damn, they are so cool!

But something else….it was a new sensation for me. With all due respect to all of my friends of all ethnic and racial backgrounds, something new has happened for me in the past few months. I am experiencing  a strong redemption for me in having other Black Women REALLY SEE ME and tell me I am OK. I spent almost an hour re-connecting with a woman of many years acquaintance, and have a new respect for both of our struggles as outsiders among outsiders.

This is another benefit of being openly fucked up. Other people who feel like you, outlier, find you and share their struggles and then you aren’t alone anymore.

But this is new, feeling specifically connected with Black women. Women here in SF, in Arizona, in DC,  in Chicago…and it is shocking to me.  This is many, many years coming.

Truth?

I have been consistently rejected by many of  my “Sisters” for my entire life. Even the gossamer illusory kinship pf BDSM gave me nothing but chimeric rapport. And that heat mirage disappeared, all to often, when the going got weird.

I feared derision, scorn and rejection from other Black women.

That sucks. A lot.

How much of a fucking gift, and a startling one, to now find women who look like me meeting me in the eye and speaking with respect for my humanity.

This is…I don’t know precisely what to say.

I don’t know what it means yet. But it is changing my life.

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  8 Responses to “Say It Loud…”

  1. Is race really that scary?? Will people think that if they want to play massah to my lil slave girl tryin to earn her way out of the fields I will think they are secretly a racist? And what does it say about me that just thinkin about that got me a little moist? lol

    I just know that I would love to have an honest conversation with someone about it. If I ever get the chance to make it to one of your classes, I will. I attend presentations on edgeplay all the time and not once has race play been mentioned. It’s so edgey it’s the thing that dare not be mentioned. So maybe the next time someone brings it up, I won’t turn it into a joke about a take down scene and actually talk about “it”.

    I hope to be able to attend your class on race play on day. I can’t say it has any appeal to me, but then most things don’t until someone proposes it and then my mind gets to working :) But I am curious. The few times the topic has been broached, I jokingly replied with if you want a good take down scene then throw in a little race play. So far no one has taken me up on that. It’s a shame that so many people are afraid to talk about it in a meaningful way. I attend presentations on edge play all the time and not once has race play been mentioned. Maybe the next time someone does bring up the subject, instead of joking about it, I will try to have a discussion. We can talk about shit and piss and blood and rape and incest but not race. Is it really that scary???

    • Yeah it is really that scary. I think a lot of it is that there is a tiny bit of fascination and that HAS to be destroyed. IN the American Way, any threat to our image is a lethal one and must be handled with Extreme Prejudice.

      I’d be curious to see what another presenter on edge play might have to say if it was brought up in one of their classes. I really would.

      Thank you for listening and hearing and for writing!!

      xoxo

      ~Mo

  2. Ya know mo, I got to give you props here. You’re a vocal part of consensual sexual minority that freaks people out so much it causes violent intolerance in San Francisco, of all places.

    That takes work.

    Fuck the haters.

    • How the hell does that shit happen? Honestly, I am not all that kinky.

      Pissing off the PC grumblers is not at all what I had in mind when I wanted to get my freak on.

      Love

      ~Mo

  3. I agree with void, but no; _Don’t_ Fuck the Haters. Hypocrites who say what turns them on is okay, but if it squicks them out or worse what would the vanilla people think if they saw it. They need to pull up their panties and grow a pair.

    If a you want a scene with some race play in it and your partner is GGG enough to go for it then do it, have fun.

    I remember on of my first exposures to kink was one of those terrible playboy/penthouse letters where the girl was asking about doing something to her boyfriend/husband (I don’t remember what) and the response was make sure you don’t leave any marks. My only thought to that was no marks where is the fun in that.

    Think about what you are doing, then do it and have fun with it.

    • UNFUCK the haters!

      I can get my mind around people who don’t like something, who are angered by an idea.

      But when that anger spills over into verbal, or emotional violence…or threats of the same, I can only think that fear is the core motivator. But that tends to make me feel like I need to deal with them compassionately. And then that isn’t reciprocal, and then I feel shitty…blah blah fucking blah.

      It is beyond me to expend precious energy worrying about some bullshit.

      xoxo

      ~Mo

  4. Race play doesn’t turn me on, but I don’t especially care if people do it in their personal lives. (Cuz… that’s what a personal life is for: doing whatever you want.)

    What I object to is the idea that because it’s a kink, it’s OK to run up on random brown and black folks in the scene and openly project every racist idea ever onto them. (Not saying that you encourage this. Just that that’s what happens.) If I had a dollar for everyone who wrote to me or approached me at a party, salivating at the idea that I would be totally ghettofied with a perpetually swiveling neck and a burning desire to make them my little white bitch, I could retire. And I can’t imagine what it must be like for a submissive of color who has no desire to engage in race play.

    • Howdy!

      I absolutely strenuously object to the idea that anyone ever thinks it is OK to project their fantasy or desire for any sort of edgy play onto a potential partner without extensive research.

      IOW, I can guarantee you the fastest way to guarantee that I won’t play with you is to approach me in precisely the way you mention.

      The behaviour you mention does happen. It predate my involvement in the scene. My hope is that talking about this issue will have the effect of educating people that it is never OK to bum-rush someone with your shit.

      Whenever I’ve presented on this topic I do grind my axe a bit on the idea that it is, to me, critical that I have ALL of the choice ALL of the time when it comes to this type of play in particular. The choice and the consent is the only thing that makes it OK. If you come at me with your greasy energy I’d shut you down so fast…ugh.

      I think you probably won’t believe me, but in all of my years doing this, I’ve never been approached in Real Time by anyone specifically asking me if I’d be interested in doing a race play scene wit them. I have had one or two online encounters where someone has said something like “I’ve this fantasy of dominating a black woman.” and my response is. “Well, good luck to you because I ‘m not interested in filling in a gap in your fantasy life.”

      It might be luck or it may be that I’m just not the kind of person people hit on. ;-)

      I think that most people are NOT comfortable with the idea of race play and that weeds out the majority of folks. The people who ARE interested, by and large, are aware of how fraught it is.

      And if someone is so douchetastic as to step to you with that kind of fuckery, isn’t it a blessing to have that litmus test turn up screaming ultra-violent and letting you know this person is not at all a worthy adversary?

      Thanks for the post, and for reading!

      Peace

      ~Mollena

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