Occupy Wallstreet (or Take Back Your Leather)

In the last month, hordes of people young and old are congregating on Wall Street and in every city of the country. They are angry, frustrated at the fact that banks and financial institutions have been bailed out by the government while jobs continue to dwindle. They are angry that one percent of the population is getting richer while the other ninety-nine percent grows poorer.

The powerful hide behind their corporations, entities now equal in rights before the law. This shift began more an one hundred years ago, when the highest court in the land declared that corporations had equal protection under the Bill of Rights. Although other cases laid the foundation for this ruling, it was Noble versus Union River Logging Railroad Company in 1893 that marked the shift. And continuing this trend toward the rise of corporate power, Randall versus Sorrel in 2006 opened the floodgates relative to elections and corporate political influence.

Today citizens are rising up and declaring that the fabric of this country is not built on corporate greed. It is built on the working men and women of this land.

As a Leather/kink Community, we seem to be a microcosm of society at large. And mirroring this trend, individuals are growing tired of "Community" being equated with titles and organizations. As if individuals without titles or affiliations are ciphers. Do we forget that our organizations were founded to serve the players of our Community, and not the other way around?

Local title organizations flock like flies toward the newest face in the bar, anxious to enlist him or her as a contestant in the next contest. And clubs sign them up as quickly as frat houses sign up pledges during rush week. Rather than emphasizing mentorship between individuals, these groups favor workshops and how-to books, the quickest way to not only learn the "right" way to play, but also the easiest way to charm the money from the pockets of these newcomers. Leather and Kink organizations insist that this is the way to build Community.

But there is another voice rising, the voice of those kinky fuckers who play, who value Leather Family more important than Leather titles and workshops.

In stating this, I do not wish to negate the title that I held as International LeatherSIR in 2010. Nor do I want to dismiss the importance of Leather clubs and runs. They have their place as a means of bringing like-minded people together. The danger lies when we lose sight of their purpose and begin believing that organizations are more important than the individuals that they are supposed to serve. As ILSb's Mark Frazier reminded me many times during my title year, "Family comes first."

In short, it is about people and what they do to each other. It is about fucking, sucking cock, beating a back bloody. About serving a MASTER and, in turn, caring for HIS property. About mentoring boys, providing them the protection and safety that they cannot find in society at large.

Perhaps it is time for us to occupy our bars and our clubs and declare with a loud voice that we are the Community. Long after the titles and clubs have faded, men and women will be playing and exploring the delights of BDSM. And just as those protesting in cities across the United States proclaim "We are the government; you work for us," we need to raise a similar cry in the Leather/kink Community.

The Death of Tolerance?

During the recent panel discussion “Is Leather Dead?'” presented by the San Francisco Leathermen's Discussion Group in July, Guy Baldwin described the classic Leather bar as a a nexus of many groups: bikers, fisters, men who practiced S/M, men who wore Leather as fetish, and men who simply enjoyed the pervasive masculinity. Disparate groups interacted together in relative harmony. Men whose shared identity was negation, NOT part of the cultural hegemony in America and the rising Gay mainstream.

Today we gather on social networking sites. Many of us use these sites as a means of screening our future fucks and play partners before Leather runs. Others use social networking to arrange face-to-face gatherings including beer busts and dungeon parties. And still others have developed advanced techniques of cruising that rival the quiet art exercised in the Leather bar, leading to physical encounters and subsequent play.

There are still others who use the Internet as a mask to hide behind. These men shun social spaces and the mannered ritual of cruising. They prefer to use the Internet as a substitute for skill and social ability. These men usually use the anonymity of the web to make immediate connections with other men, claiming to be “Sirs” or “Masters” with a history of experience. Devoid of the checks and balances of actual place, these Web-doms often find it easy to write cruel remarks to submissives on line. Behind the mask of the website, inexperienced men feel emboldened. Sociopaths that take advantage of the curious and the uninitiated.

On the flip side, inexperienced subs often feed like predators on the earnest remarks of experienced Doms. Like the Hungry Ghosts of Buddhist lore, they strive to fill their stomachs in spite of the constriction of their throats, never content. They demand to meet the Dom immediately and usually release a litany of epithets when the experienced Man insists on meeting first to negotiate.

The efficiency of the language used in chatting, texting, and e-mailing adds to the volatility of the virtual place. Ignoring conventions of the spoken word that reinforce polite behavior, messages become direct, clipped, and often harsh. This compounds the need for personal interaction between potential players subsequent to on line cruising.

The cruising ritual of the Leather bar virtually eliminated such rude interactions, demanding politeness either out of fear of immediate retaliation from peers or out of respect for the feelings of others.

Many men of my generation have mourned the passing of San Francisco's Eagle. For me, this bar was more than a historical place of refuge. Its dark recesses facilitated the art of cruising, an art based on discretion and subtle interaction. I mourn the loss of this social art. Cruising is based on nuance and mannered restraint. And the subtlety of such interactions are often missed by the uninitiated, visible only to those who know how to read the signs. Because of this, the Leather bar operated on both esoteric and visible levels. Tolerance enforced by the phenomenon of cruising.

Since my late teens, whenever I am in Venice I have sought out the intimate space inside the Chiesa di San Sebastiano, a church in one of the furthest corners of Dorsoduro. Once inside the coolness of the church, I immediately go to the front of the sanctuary. Standing next to the altar I become part of the drama of Paolo Veronese's masterpiece depicting the martyrdom of the Saint. Glancing up to the farthest corner of the dark space, I become with Saint Sebastian the target of the archers. An essential part of the unfolding drama of his martyrdom.

Tourists inevitably stare as I stand in stillness before Veronese's massive canvas. In spite of the fact that they occupy the same space that I occupy, they are ignorant of the drama that is enfolding. The three painted archers take aim from the far corner of the darkness, pointing their arrows at both Saint Sebastian and myself.

My phenomenon remains hidden to those who are not privy to Veronese's visual interplay. Tourists come and go and I remain standing beside the altar and Saint Sebastian's painted body peppered with arrows.

This is the tolerance of place. The phenomenon of cruising. A tolerance that the Internet cannot replace. The actual space becomes a nexus of phenomena experienced on multiple planes.

The Leather bar as sanctuary.

The Death of Tolerance?

During the recent panel discussion “Is Leather Dead?'” presented by the San Francisco Leathermen's Discussion Group in July, Guy Baldwin described the classic Leather bar as a a nexus of many groups: bikers, fisters, men who practiced S/M, men who wore Leather as fetish, and men who simply enjoyed the pervasive masculinity. Disparate groups interacted together in relative harmony. Men whose shared identity was negation, NOT part of the cultural hegemony in America and in the rising Gay mainstream.

Today we gather on social networking sites. Many of us use these sites as a means of screening our future fucks and play partners before Leather runs. Others have learned how to use social networking to arrange face-to-face gatherings including beer busts and dungeon parties. And still others have developed advanced techniques of cruising that rival the quiet art exercised in the Leather bar, leading to physical encounters and subsequent play.

There are still others who use the Internet as a mask to hide behind. These men shun social spaces and the mannered ritual of cruising. They prefer to use the Internet as a substitute for skill and social ability. These men usually use the anonymity of the web to make immediate connections with other men, claiming to be “Sirs” or “Masters” with a history of experience. Devoid of the checks and balances of actual place, these Web-doms often find it easy to write cruel remarks to submissives online. The cruising ritual of the Leather bar virtually eliminated such rude interactions, demanding politeness either out of fear of immediate retaliation from peers or out of respect for the feelings of others. Behind the mask of the website, inexperienced men feel emboldened. Sociopaths that take advantage of the curious and the uninitiated.

On the flip side, inexperienced submissives often feed like predators on the earnest remarks of experienced Doms. Like the Hungry Ghosts of Buddhist lore, they strive to fill their stomachs in spite of the constriction of their throats, never content. They demand to meet the Dom immediately and usually release a litany of epithets when the experienced Man insists on meeting first to negotiate.

The efficiency of the language used in chatting, texting, and e-mailing adds to the volatility of the virtual place. Ignoring conventions of the spoken word that reinforce polite behavior, messages become direct, clipped, and often harsh. This compounds the need for personal interaction between potential players subsequent to online cruising.

Many men of my generation have mourned the passing of San Francisco's Eagle. For me, this bar was more than a historical place of refuge. Its dark recesses facilitated the art of cruising, an art based on discretion and subtle interaction. I mourn the loss of this social art. Cruising is based on nuance and mannered restraint. And the subtlety of such interactions are often missed by the uninitiated, visible only to those who know how to read the signs. Because of this, the Leather bar operated on both esoteric and visible levels. Tolerance enforced by the phenomenon of cruising.

Since my late teens, whenever I am in Venice I have sought out the intimate space inside the Chiesa di San Sebastiano, a church in one of the furthest corners of Dorsoduro. Once inside the coolness of the church, I immediately go to the front of the sanctuary. Standing next to the altar I become part of the drama of Paolo Veronese's masterpiece depicting the martyrdom of the Saint. Glancing up to the farthest corner of the dark space, I become with Saint Sebastian the target of the archers. An essential part of the unfolding drama of his martyrdom.

Tourists inevitably stare as I stand in stillness before Veronese's massive canvas. In spite of the fact that they occupy the same space that I occupy, they are ignorant of the drama that is enfolding. The three painted archers take aim from the far corner of the darkness, pointing their arrows at both Saint Sebastian and myself.

My phenomenon remains hidden to those who are not privy to Veronese's visual interplay. Tourists come and go and I remain standing beside the altar and Saint Sebastian's painted body peppered with arrows.

This is the tolerance of place. The phenomenon of cruising. A tolerance that the Internet cannot replace. The actual space becomes a nexus of phenomena experienced on multiple planes.

The Leather bar as sanctuary.

Reflections on the Hollow Men

"We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men."

When I fashion a Leather mask, I begin by casting the face. I carefully mold a negative form and from that, I create a positive. Then I stretch the Leather, hammer it, and rub it methodically for hours until a near perfect replica of the visage takes shape. A mask that begs to be worn. Without a person to wear it, the mask is dead, an object without life. Every actor knows this. An essential part of the professional actor's training is learning to interact within its hollow. Acting en masque.

Decades ago, many of our Leather organizations were formed. They were fashioned by men who understood the need to raise funds and awareness for HIV, for service to members of the Community, to defeat right-wing political agendas that threatened to drown us in intolerance. Although the shape of these organizations has remained the same over the years, the skill of those who knew how to animate them seems to be gone. What remains are the shells of organizations, masks of clubs and contests that once served a vibrant purpose.

While a few of these organizations have found revitalization through the efforts of a few selfless individuals, most remain evident but ineffective. They seem to have little direct association with their original purpose. And their affiliation with Leathersex, with play, or with the individuals who make up our current Community seems strained. Many of these organizations have become but facades of broken stones from another time, objects that are the focus of "Old Guard" incantations and fantastical rituals.

Groups that used to facilitate brotherhood now foment politics and drama. And their leaders, once essentially hidden behind the masks of their organizations, now expose themselves. The desire to be seen, greater than the call to serve. For it was service that animated these organizations, not the egos of men whose appetite for accolades and awards compels them to move the mask from the borders of its surface rather than from the inside.

I recently attended a symposium in San Francisco called, "Is Leather Dead?" As a Sir to boys of varying ages I can attest that kink and perversion is alive and well in the lives of the rising generation of Gay men. What seems to be dead are many of our organizations that have no context in the lives of these men. They belong more within the context of a reliquary than a vibrant Community.

So all hail to the "Hollow Men" who claim to lead these organizations. To them, I say -

"A penny for the Old Guy."

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!

The Black Death

Almost 80 years ago, the French surrealist Antonin Artaud recognized a different kind of theatre. He called it, “The Theatre of Cruelty.” No mere entertainment or amusement, The Theatre of Cruelty is not based on text, concrete definitions, or the development of dialogue or character. Instead, it is visceral, based in the body. Cruel, not because of its foundation in sadism, but rather because of the brutality of its operation in exposing the honesty of the moment. As a collective phenomenon, The Theatre of Cruelty is a contagion that, once under the skin, consumes like the plague. Artaud compared its effects to the Black Death in medieval Europe.

The Theatre of Cruelty is an appropriate description of the effects of Leather during in my own life. My initial experimentation gave way to an honest exploration of my sexuality, finally, coloring my phenomenal world. Another victim of the Black Death.

In Venice, there were two types of individuals who ministered to those inflicted with the Plague. The first is a well-known trope, the Plague Doctor. With his oiled, black robe, his beaked mask filled with camphor and herbs, the Plague Doctor pointed out the buboes on the body of the plague victim with a long, wooden cane. By maintaining a distance from the plague victim, the Doctor could avoid being contaminated by the Black Death.

The second type was a group of men called “i pizzigamorti.” These men were outlaws, outcasts like the people to whom they ministered. They can be seen in Venetian paintings, their naked, sinewed bodies in direct contact with the bodies of the inflicted. In this way, they, too, became inflicted themselves with the plague.

This year as International LeatherSIR I have not tried to keep myself apart from my peers. I have shared myself openly through conversation, blogs, and social networking. I have fucked and played in public dungeons, backyards, and sex clubs. Thus, I have been infected again and again with the contagious perversity of Leather.

After twenty-five years, I find that I have come full circle in my Leather, back to the place where I began. I remain curious and excited to learn more about the depths of my dark sexuality through my play. And I continue to question how I relate to that group of individuals that consider themselves my “Community.”

The Plague inflicts totally, and without mercy.

Avon calling: Thoughts following Seattle Pride 2011

This year as I marched down Seattle's Fourth Avenue with whip in hand I could not help but ask myself why I was marching. Second in size only to the Torchlight Parade, Seattle's Pride parade plodded its way through downtown, stretching for more than a mile behind me. Corporate logos flanked both sides of the street as vendors hawked popcorn, Mardi Gras beads, and stuffed animals. Large groups of “out and proud” employees from banks and credit unions marched in close proximity, handing out advertisements as they passed the cheering crowd. What did my Leather have to do with such blatant capitalism? After pondering this question for a few moments, I realized soberly that in buying a spot as a “Corporate Sponsor” the Leather contingent had bought its place at the table. It had aligned itself with gay groups from Microsoft, Boeing, AT and T, and numerous clubs and retail outlets. I also realized sadly that that this classification was appropriate, given the entrepreneurship prevalent in contemporary Leather in the United States, men and women anxious to profit from an endless appetite for new and improved fetish products.

Many Leatherfolk today find themselves burdened by the constraints imposed by the recent financial climate. Some are out of work. Others struggle to overcome the downturn in retirement investments. Not to mention the costs of medications that many shoulder who live with HIV, some without the security of medical insurance. In spite of this, Leather runs continue to focus on profits as a measure of success. And workshops and publications abound like pests on a healthy plant. Turning inward, I must face the question, “What role have I played in this infestation?”

As a child I watched my father sever limbs from apple and pear trees infested with tent caterpillars. He gathered the limbs together in the middle of an open space and burned them. I was always horrified to see the vestigial appendages that remained of the once verdant foliage. “It's the only way that I can be assured that I these pests are gone,” my father explained.

Is such eradication necessary in U.S. American Leather? The art of personal gain has so infested the Community that the idea seems almost absurd. Indeed, many Leather “leaders” have become expert at charming money from our pockets. We, in turn, accept such behavior as inherent to our fetish. In short, we have become a microcosm of society at large.

As I ponder this concept, I am forced to ask another question relative to our History: Did the push to organize as a Leather Community in the mid-eighties facilitate such rampant capitalism in Leather? By asking this question, I do not mean to suggest that producers and organizers should not ask a fair price for services rendered. Or that all workshops, and books on SM should be avoided. Rather, this question points to a delicate balance that exists between financial profit and the nature of service.

No where is this balance more exposed than in Leather awards. It seems that service awards are often aligned more with the recognition of monetary gains than altruistic endeavors. Efforts by individuals that do not show immediate profit usually go unheralded or ignored. And even though few would argue that monetary gain does not necessarily equal service, Leather organizations in the U.S. continue to award prestige solely to those who possess a penchant for fund-raising, individuals whose zeal for making profits is equaled only by Mary Kay ladies and Amway salesmen.

Gay Leather in the United States hearkens back to renegade clubs, hidden brotherhoods, and unspoken sexual acts. Until the mid-eighties it has always been relegated to outlaw or Outsider status both by its adherents and by mainstream society. Wearing our sexuality on our sleeve, we both attract and repulse many within the mainstream Gay Community. Rather than mimic the corporate tactics of this mainstream, we must develop strategies that benefit the group rather than on tactics that aggrandize the individual.

Frankly, I am growing tired of answering the call to support my “Community” only to hear waiting once again at my threshold, "Avon calling."