Creating Community: A statement of faith

As I was preparing my speech for the International LeatherSIR contest last year, my alpha boy gabe asked me if I would avoid using the word “community.” “Please don't talk about the 'Community,'” he pleaded. “It would be nice to hear a speech for a change that didn't once mention 'community.'” I acknowledged the extensive use of the word and informed him that I had no intention of using the word. Indeed, a favorite game that we play in our Leather Family consists of counting words that occur frequently in the speeches of potential titleholders. Each of us chooses a word and keeps score. “Community” wins every time by a large margin.

As Leatherfolk we especially like to use the word “community” not only to include those present, but also to evoke those in the past. In doing so, we conjure up a vision of unity, of sainted Leathermen from a mythologized past. We quietly reference them with sacerdotal reverence while reinforcing our infallible heritage stretching back generations, a means of self-identification, an attempt to establish pedigree in order to qualify ourselves.

What follows is an exhortation to boldly examine the praxis of invoking the past. In doing so, I acknowledge the discourse as the means of establishing and maintaining power. Michel Foucault considered this concept seminal in his examination of sexuality. In short, Foucault suggested that we are motivated to invoke the past through language in order to either maintain or shift our position of power, a means of validating our present desire. For this reason, we must understand that the person invoking the past in either oral or written form must be considered if we are to truly understand ourselves.

Returning to “community,” I recommend that we consider the founding of the National Leather Association (NLA) in Seattle in 1986 as the impetus for Leatherfolk to begin discussions of an actual gathering of clubs and organizations, the beginning of a Leather “community.” I should also note that the first March on Washington could serve as the point at which one might employ the word, a period which also gave birth to Leather contests. A member of Hellfire or The Eulenspiegel Society could opine that the initial stirrings of their organizations represent an earlier point in time during which individuals came together to create community. And then there is the question, do those who do not affiliate with any organization belong to the Leather “community?” The only thing we can glean from the many applications of the word is the understanding that its use defines our position relative to others.

In writing the statement above, I am validating my position as an author. My use of the word “community” in reference to the year 1986 locates me in time and space relative to the founding of the NLA. At that time I was a resident in Seattle and I was dating an older man who helped me accept that darker side of my sexuality. This was an important moment in coming to terms with my Leather. In short, my admonishment to use 1986 as a logical date for the formation of a Leather “community” is self-serving, bolstering my authority as an author.

To summarize, the words we use in interpreting the past are chosen relative to one's current position. To deny this suggests that the past exists as an immutable truth. As Gay men and Lesbians, we know that this is not true.

The creation of Gay history should stand as a warning to Leatherfolk in interpreting our past. Reacting to the patriarchal version of Western History taught in schools for decades, a number of Gay authors in the 70s and 80s focused on the male-male relationships of historical figures such as Tchaikovsky, Michaelangelo, and Socrates in an attempt to label them “Gay.” Our histories reach back centuries in spite of the fact that the praxis of identifying an individual by one's sexuality is quite modern. As Leathermen and women, we often do the same, creating a community of individuals from the past who may or may not have identified as Leather, or who may have felt no affiliation with a collective of initiates.

We tend to find apostolic zeal in the actions of many who came before us and like to cite their words as catholic truths. This practice can give one a strategic advantage when it comes to marketing one's opinions. For this reason alone, we should be wary when we encounter an author that draws from the past to create a dogmatic work on Leather without placing himself within its context. We must recognize that the author is interpreting the past and offering words that assume a position of authority.

Authors and speakers often invoke the term “Old Guard” in this way. By using this generic term, they effectively negate any differences between club and regional traditions. With the power of a papal edict, they then claim the right to pronounce what is “correct” or “true” Leather, hearkening back to a mythologized Golden Age of Leather. Such papal edits ostracize those who protest that the praxis of sexuality can be dictated. It has been my observation that usually these protesters make up the ranks of the rising generation.

And so, we come back to community and the questions we older Leatherfolk must ask ourselves. “Are we using the discourse of our past to exclude? Are we aborting those new men and women through our words?” We must remember that when we invoke the past we can provoke a negative response by many novitiates who are openly exploring their sexuality outside the imposed catechism of protocols. Perhaps it is not the older traditions that many new Leather and kink folk currently reject. Perhaps they are actually rejecting us as the purveyors of a discourse that concedes to them solely acolyte status, forever assisting us in the celebration of an old religion that no longer applies to contemporary life.

These are not easy questions to pose because I am part of that older generation of Leathermen who are both visible and outspoken. In serving as International LeatherSIR, I have occupied a podium that has required me to speak. This position challenges me to define what “Leather” is and I remain unable to do so. In fact, during the year I have been unable to intone the term “Leather Community” with any sense of conviction. For this reason I have focused instead on the phenomenon of radical sexuality, basing my observations on visceral rather than historical signs.

Looking deeper, my choice to base communication solidly in the body reinforces the nature of my sexuality. Because I enjoy it with little thought to social definitions and dictated credos, my sexuality operates outside of any scripture, beyond the discourse of right versus wrong, correct versus incorrect, or authentic versus fake. By rejecting all canons in regard to my desire, I assert a trans-moral rather than an amoral position. That is, my sexuality operates beyond the tensions of predetermined standards. It does not negate a dictated morality. Rather it exists beyond it, in a realm that is instinctual rather intellectual.

Bottom line, I do not need a pedigree or a license to drive my cock deep within a boy's guts or to make him dance at the end of my whip. And all the ecumenical writings mean little during that moment of pain, when the boy looks at me in lust and terror. My community begins here, between that boy and myself. And from that point, it extends to the congregation of individuals with whom I have played or who have shared the dungeon with me.

Here I stand!