Storytime with Clarisse, slash Communication Screwup Post #1: isn’t tickling cuuute?
2009 26 Jan
I had a conversation over the weekend that reminded me of an incident with one of my exes — a communication screwup that really highlights how strangely our culture thinks about consent, and how BDSM ideas of negotiation can work against that.
Wow, I’m realizing that I’m about to write a totally serious post about tickling. I hope I don’t sound too pompous.
Anyway, story!
So, I was lying around having a casual conversation with this particular ex, and he started tickling me. I really wanted him to stop, so I asked him to. He didn’t. I safeworded, and he still didn’t stop. Furious, I lashed out and scratched him badly enough to bleed. I do believe I left a scar.
He got upset because he was bleeding, and I got upset because he hadn’t listened to me. I can’t remember how exactly we talked it out; it was a pretty tense moment. I think I might have apologized, but I also might not have. I was really angry, and my stance was, “So I drew blood — how else was I supposed to get you to stop? You should have respected how much I don’t like that, and it is totally not okay that you ignored my safeword!” He snapped back that it simply never occurred to him that I would actually safeword, for real, against being tickled. Tickling just seemed like such a mild, unimportant thing to him ….
If we’d been in the middle of doing BDSM stuff, then he would have stopped instantly. Indeed, I did safeword with him a couple of times in the middle of BDSM stuff, and at those times, he did everything exactly right — he stopped immediately, he calmed me down, he reassured me, and so on.
I think one of the hardest parts about relationships is learning that your partner really doesn’t work entirely the way you do. That there are things that absolutely drive your partner crazy, that literally don’t matter in the slightest to you … and vice versa. That sensitivity is so hard to build.
I also think that when people engage in careful, consenting BDSM relationships, they learn that kind of sensitivity more quickly — and, more importantly, they learn how to communicate about those boundaries. If I hadn’t had a safeword at all — if I’d been in a “normal, vanilla” relationship with my ex — I’m not sure how I would have even tried to communicate about the tickling problem. What would I have said, if I hadn’t been able to draw on BDSM experience? “No, really. I didn’t like that. No, really,” — over and over, until he got the point? Thank God I had words for how I felt: words better than, “I wasn’t trying to be cute, I really meant it.” I had these words: “You ignored my safeword. You know what a betrayal that is. You know that’s never okay.”
There’s this stereotypical image we have — of the cute couple where one person is tickling the other, and the second person is protesting but secretly enjoys it. I’m sure everyone reading this has encountered that image; you see it in romantic comedies all the time. And that situation is totally fine … if the second person really does secretly enjoy it.
But I don’t think most people have considered what happens if the second person, who “secretly enjoys” being tickled, doesn’t actually enjoy it. How does that person show that they really hate it? Protesting won’t necessarily work, because people are expected to protest against tickling even when they like it.
There’s a limit to how much we can expect “No, really, I don’t like that … no, really,” to work in such a situation. This is part of what feminists are talking about when they discuss a “rape culture”. We have a culture where certain acts are considered acceptable, simply because they’re “not that bad”, or they’re “unimportant”; and sometimes people are expected to protest those things at first. So, (a) it becomes hard to tell when the protests are real, and (b) people are trained to ignore protests. Almost nobody is actually trying to be insensitive, but the culture in which we find ourselves encourages us to be.
BDSM is unusual in its approach to specific sex acts: the rest of the world is far less likely to think about consent in terms of “I consent to this act, but not that one.” (Instead, it is fairly common for people to assume that the existence of a sexual relationship or sexual agreement implies consent to all manner of acts. As a random example, if two American adults are dating, then frequently there is an assumption of consent to oral sex.) And the BDSM community often emphasizes that members must consent to each specific sex act. But this is something we must teach everyone — not just kinksters — to communicate effectively, because that’s what all good relationships are built on: trying to make sure that we mostly do things we like together, and avoiding asking our partners to do things they dislike.
It is so telling that my ex violated my boundaries with a vanilla act, but never violated them with a BDSM act. To me, it indicates that — for all that I talk about how BDSM ideas of consent can influence us into being more respectful about our relationships — sometimes, our ingrained assumptions about “normal” consent can be so powerful that they overwhelm what we’ve learned from BDSM.
Tags: BDSM, communication, screwups, storytime
I hate being tickled. The parts of my torso sensitive enough to be tickled were involved in the elementary- and middle-school torments I endured, and I have reacted poorly to certain kinds of touching there ever since – mostly the publicly-acceptable forms of touch.
I don’t go about telling people about it because it doesn’t happen that often and it doesn’t rule my life, but when something does trigger that, I have to work hard to make the relevant person understand that I am absolutely serious that I do not ever want to be touched like that again.
Tickling is, in particular, a subject difficult for people to take seriously. Most consider it harmless or fun, and media supports that, making it a challenge to convince others that it is actually something negative to you, or something you want to stop.
I think you underestimate the non-BDSM world. Some acts have entered the public consciousness as assumed or expected, such as intercourse while dating and oral sex if there’s intercourse – and while that’s not correct, it’s also not my point – but many other acts that the general public is aware of are not assumed. Anal play, sexual roleplaying, multiple partner events, for example.
These all come up in various popular media as in-question sexual acts. Usually the representation isn’t healthy, instead being a paragon representation of poor communication and selfish wants. I have no illusion that these shows display much positive regarding sex, but they do indicate that the public is aware that different things can be on or off limits in different relationships.
Is there really nothing assumed in a BDSM relationship? I can understand the need to be explicit being more pronounced, but I would be surprised if people or groups don’t develop certain baseline assumptions that are not always true, just like in vanilla relationships.
I definitely think that there can be some pretty horrifying sense-of-entitlement crap in BDSM relationships. I would never argue that everyone who practices BDSM is a brilliant communicator.
Within the BDSM subculture, for instance, I’ve heard it argued (and seen some evidence for the assertion) that there is too much pressure to engage in ever-more-extreme acts, or to “prove” one’s BDSM identity in various explicit ways.
But here’s the thing — I’ve also noticed that most of the time when you see that kind of thing, someone else will argue against it. The emphasis on respecting boundaries and on consent means that (in my experience) kinksters put a whole hell of a lot of thought into what it means to consent, on how we can effectively communicate, etc.
Hell, the idea of safewords alone — our most basic negotiation tactic — is something that the vanilla world has (for the most part) never even considered. And think about what kind of concepts safewords imply: an assumption that consent can be given for some acts but not for others; an assumption that consent can be withdrawn at any point in the sexual process …. These are basic ideas, but they are also ideas that I think are shockingly lacking in the mainstream.
So, yes — I would say that there are still assumptions in BDSM relationships, and in the BDSM subculture, just as there are in all relationships and all subcultures. But I also think that in most of the vanilla world, people hardly ever think deeply about sexuality or sexual assumptions or ideas of consent in the first place … whereas thinking deeply about those things is a central and integral part of researching and practicing BDSM, and being part of the BDSM scene. Most assumptions have a harder time gaining traction, and there are structures in place that work against them.
I wrote a post about this. I also had a sex partner that thought that watersports was on the same level as, say, hair pulling, and continued to ask for it even after being told no several times. While he never ignored a “safeword,” it was still scary that he was ignoring the word No.
I loved this post, very well told and gets at the point with a sharpened precision.
I once saw a TV interview that touched on tickling that is burnt into my brain. It was with Nicole Ritchie (there’s your bringing tickling back to something light and fluff). When the interviewer asks her what she hates, her bubbly cute demeanor goes to stern and serious she responds “Tickling. I hate it. I am laughing but I do NOT think it is funny. DO NOT tickle me!”
I could tell she was had some anger about this and legitimately so!
this is a great post, and so true, just because it seems light and fun doesnt mean you arent annoying the hell out of your partner. Me and my bf have had problems with this
Great post. I can’t comment on the BDSM side as I’m not involved.
I do however remember an ex once held me down and tickled me. My protests and thrashing were stupidly assumed by him to be just normal tickling reactions. Where it’s all cute and fun.
But he took it to the point that I was laughing but it really hurt. I ended up kneeing him in the balls to get him to stop. My legs were the only part that had enough room to move.
Then he went and sulked about it.
I HATE being tickled. I just can’t stand it. I get that I’m laughing- but it’s actually painful for me to be tickled (I’m apparently very sensitive). I also react, mostly involuntarily, by flailing around when being tickled so it’s easy for people to be hurt even if I’m not trying to.
So I REALLY hate that tickling is seen as “safe” and universally “acceptable” behavior.
And, I don’t know if you made quite this argument, but this really can be carried into things that AREN’T safe or acceptable. Sexuals get this to, but a big complaint asexuals have is that their partner tries to pressure them into sex by arguing “You’re wet/hard/[other signs of physical arousal]- you must want it!”, which isn’t far from assuming that laughing means that the person is enjoying being tickled. It’s not hard to stay in that mindset with other, less “safe” things. And there really isn’t a decent way to communicate it- because it’s not uncommon (even not unacceptable) for people to think “no” means “ask me until I say yes” or “I’m just playing hard to get, but really mean ‘yes’”.
I have serious issues with tickling as well. In several living situations and friendship situations, tickling was a mildly sexual but friendly method of interaction. I had to let people know, well ahead of time, that tickling me by surprise was NEVER okay, and to never, EVER do it without explicit consent. Even so I still had people forget, because to them it was such a normal act.
It bothers me that I have to explicitly tell people, people who aren’t even in a sexual relationship with me, that they do not get to touch my body in certain ways without consent.
I am a generally touchy-feely person who occasionally (sometimes quite suddenly) finds physical contact frightening and physically unpleasant. I am considering telling all my friends that if I ever click my fingers while they are tickling me or anything similar, they must stop. And if they see me clicking my fingers in response to something someone else does, they should tell them that click means stop. These are not sexual situations. I once ended up panicked and with friction burns from trying to stop someone from lifting me, because “No!” is considered a normal, playful response to being lifted up. Words like ‘seriously’ ‘really’ ‘i’m not playing/joking’ don’t come to me easily, particularly if I’m scared.
It’s nice to see others who view these things that way.
I will have to somewhat disagree with this, its very true that consent should be given and people may scared about doing certain things, especially around ex partners where you may feel weird, and certain role play bondage roles such as correctly above water playing.
To equate tickling without a safeword or touching in certain situations to a “rape culture” is wrong. Consent is a unusual topic of what happens beyond an initial consent, while people have the right to change their mind and explore their limits and it is inappropriate for a partner to assume things, many women in certain safer or light bondage situations are okay without a safeword, many women also feel that they cannot enjoy sex without being in light bondage or be tickled since they will hit and move.
An idea is this, in certain situations where a person wants to explore orgasms or tickling and doesn’t like it initially but may start to like after a few minutes or enjoy a sensation , he or she may not want a safeword in certain situations (A safeword should always be used in most cases where risk of injury or other factors can come into play), what one can do is ignore a safeword in these situations that don’t involve extreme rope or waterplay or certain situations , discuss with the partner beforehand and explore, and maybe only ignore a safeword for a few minutes or in certain cases 30 seconds or so depending on the risk.
Basically, once a fantasy has been initially tried or explored in certain situations a safeword may not be wanted in low-risk environments, if the author is implying that people always assume cute couples and a rape culture in a sexual harassment environment then yes, but to brand ignorance of all safewords all the time in low risk and exploration environments where the initial idea or fantasy has been tested or tried out is wrong, its a bit hard to explain and examples but perhaps I will find an example.
May I add, that in certain instances people may be afraid and try to hard and should use a safeword, in this case where is the consent, in certain porn shoots, where the director or crew wisely stops the shoot, I do agree that waterplay , rape fantasies, extreme rope, or beating , or needleplay, and things involving pain or things people can get freaked out are different initially, but tickling can be different if its start and stop and the tickler really knows that he or she wants to submit and has a hard time not using a safeword or wants to be tickled gently in certain areas, in that case a start and stop or timed safeword can be okay, in the case of an orgasm in light bondage, that can be okay or an unrelated safeword for example if one feels that the rope is tight or scratching on cuffs, then they can return and play
An idea is this, in certain situations where a person wants to explore orgasms or tickling and doesn’t like it initially but may start to like after a few minutes or enjoy a sensation , he or she may not want a safeword in certain situations (A safeword should always be used in most cases where risk of injury or other factors can come into play), what one can do is ignore a safeword in these situations that don’t involve extreme rope or waterplay or certain situations , discuss with the partner beforehand and explore, and maybe only ignore a safeword for a few minutes or in certain cases 30 seconds or so depending on the risk.
Well for me no, I don’t think you should ignore a safe word. It’s there for a reason and you should respect people invoking it.
I think the whole point of a safeword is for your partner to stop. I don’t like this idea that there’s “wiggle room” around safewords. That said, many people use the “red/yellow/green” system of safewords, in which red is the “immediate stop” safeword, and yellow is what you say for “slow down / move your hand / let’s talk, but don’t stop”. I support that totally. I got into it a bit on this post:
http://clarissethorn.wordpress.com/2010/07/03/sex-communication-tactic-derived-from-sm-2-safewords-and-check-ins/
Machina, of course a safeword should be used in most if not almost all situations but I think its a generalization . the yellow safeword is interesting, one can use a safeword in a time format , but keep in mind that certain situations don’t have a quick safeword, for instance there was a leeches scene without a safeword by intersec interactive which I don’t necessarily agree with, in rope bondage scenarios a cutter when a partner uses a safeword is a must.
However, some people love to explore ideas to a limit, much like it is hard to let go in certain situations or people are afraid even to let go of the boat with a lifejacket and people around or to step in something and then freak out but regret using a safeword too quickly, this is not limited to bsdm or bdsm but certain reality shows too, its a bit kind of hard to explain, but the assumption about tickling and rape culture is wrong, I don’t think many folks will continue to view tickling a coworker or ex or whatever beyond consent the same way in which a person is ticklish , and may want a person to yellow or go quickly and stop.
Much like a women’s or certain man’s orgasm in which the person is afraid to rub their penis too much at which point it violenty contracts and ejaculates, the no or safeword is different in a less or near no-bondage scene in a timed or exploration scenario.
I don’t think all situations require a safeword. Safewords obviously aren’t even possible in some. However if you have a safeword with a partner and they use it then you should stop. Perhaps afterwards they will regret saying their safeword, at the time though it was their decision and what was right for them. It’s their responsibility to safeword when it’s right for them and not safeword when it’s not.
I agree with machina 100%. If people want to play without safewords, that’s their prerogative, though I’d advise them to be careful and to feel very sure of each other, of course. Or if people want to use the red-yellow-green thing, go for it — it’s what I do. But if I ever thought a partner wouldn’t respect my safeword the minute I said it, I would be done with that person. Absolutely. Done.
@Clarisse/@Machina – I agree that it’s everyone’s right to not use safewords if they don’t want them. But I do try very hard to encourage anyone who might be exploring sexuality that challenges conventional understandings of consent and abuse very strongly to do so.
My reasoning is basically this – if you ever end up in court, because of a neighbor calling the cops while concerned, or a scene gone wrong, or whatever – and you’re explaining to the judge that your partner didn’t really withdraw consent, despite what the witnesses heard – the concept of a safe word gives you some chance at explaining. The concept is widely disseminated in a lot of pop culture and most judges that I’ve spoken too have at least a precursor understanding of the idea. You can explain that ‘no no, please stop’ wasn’t actually a withdrawal of consent and you might get somewhere with that.
If your partner has no alternate means of withdrawing consent – then it’s a pretty hard sell to convince the judge that you had a reasonable expectation that that your partners apparent attempts at withdrawing consent by conventional means (no no, please stop) weren’t genuine and that you didn’t have an obligation/couldn’t be reasonably expected to observe that withdrawal of consent.
Arrange your safeword to be weighty and to have severe consequences for misuse or whatever lets you keep the headspace that you’re playing on the boundaries without a net by all means – but I think you’re much, much safer if you keep some kind of negotiated way for a participant to withdraw consent in place at all times.
Scootah, absolutely. The National Coalition for Sexual Freedom says similar things in their official advice, I think, and about other stuff along those lines like the RACK vs. SSC debate (I got into this a little bit a while ago, in my interview with Daniel Bergner:
It’s also worth noting that the NCSF officially advises people not to follow RACK. If someone says that they are “risk-aware” but does the risky activity anyway — that can mean that if the worst happens, if one partner is injured or killed, liability is raised from accidental to willful negligence. In the case of a death, that can mean upping the charge from manslaughter to second-degree murder. Following SSC is far better legally, especially for kinksters who practice very risky edge play.)
Okay ludicrously late, I am just pathetically glad to see someone point out that nonconsensual tickling is not okay.
I’m autistic. I have touch sensitivities. In fact, I have a particular type of touch sensitivity in which the lighter the touch is the more intense it feels until extremely light touch is sort of the physical equivalent of nails on blackboard. Being tickled, for me, is pretty much hell on earth, I cannot even begin to describe how unpleasant it can be. Pain would be better. In fact, because the intensely unpleasant feeling of light touch sort of lingers and spreads if I don’t do anything about it, pain is a consequence because I am liable to scratch myself bloody after being tickled to make it stop.
Do people respect this? No. Definitely not if I shout “stop” during the act. Because tickling is an act where “no” is pretty much universally not taken to actually mean “no”, leaving people on the receiving end with no way of stopping it without, like, resorting to actual violence. (Which I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t do.) So if I have friends that seem as if they’re touchy-feely, I end up trying to bring it up beforehand just in case they want to try. Of course, bringing it up is often seen as invitation to try! Instead of going “please don’t tickle me”, which no one takes seriously, I end up having to say things like “if you tickle me I will try to claw your eyes out and believe me I will not be sorry” to get them to understand that no. No. And no.
Hi. I came here from “Yes Means Yes” blog, and didn’t intend to comment so late, but just have to respond to a comment by Factletter. “To equate tickling without a safeword or touching in certain situations to a “rape culture” is wrong.”
My reaction is, No, it brings home the pervasiveness of the rape culture which, the way I see it, colors far too much of human interaction. What the rape culture seems to tell us is that “this person” (usually, but not always, male) feels that the body of “that person” (usually, but not always, female) can be touched regardless of permission. The type of touch does not matter. Even if it looks “normal” and “innocuous” to other people, the toucher is infringing on the body of the touchee without permission.
When George Bush gave a “surprise” neck massage to German Chancellor Merkel, large portions of the world expressed outrage. Why? Neck massages are good things, right? Well, yes… except when you don’t have permission. Except when the man is standing over the sitting woman, indicating by body language and actions that she is lesser than he is. (Bush didn’t, after all, offer a ‘neck massage’ to another man. If you think, “Well, of course not!” or just, “Ew!” that should tell you that this is all about power dynamics.)
And who is usually the person being tickled? Women and children — those who are coded as having less personal agency in our society. Have you ever seen a man being casually tickled in a public venue? I haven’t. (It might well happen as part of consenting sexual play in a private venue. The fact that men aren’t tickled ‘out in the open’ indicates to me that tickling is a form of indicating power.)
My dad tickled, and I didn’t mind it, but it was a quick ‘swipe’ and finished; he didn’t hold any of us kids down and keep tickling us. That happened to me in college, and my roommate (another woman) would not stop, even though I was shouting, “No! Stop! I don’t like it!” Of course, girls don’t hurt other people, so instead of kicking her violently, I damaged myself in trying to escape — gashed my arm on a broken spring as I squirmed under the bed.
And what told my roommate — and George Bush — that they could put their hands on another person without permission, and keep it up despite protests? The culture that tells us that some people are not allowed to have agency over their own body. I do not think Clarisse overstated equating tickling to rape culture at all.
Thank you, Clarisse, for this post. I’m adding your blog to my reading list.
Just wanted to say that I have no problem with comments posted a long time after I wrote the original post. Seriously, it’s cool. I’m glad so many people still like this post — it’s clear that I touched a nerve!
Count me among those pathetically grateful that someone’s written about this.
I just stumbled across this and had to comment even though it’s months old. I’ll join the chorus of “don’t fucking tickle me EVER”. And it’s not the physical discomfort that’s an issue (although it does tend to make my sides hurt from laughing), it’s the feeling of being helpless and trapped. Even the briefest tickle immediately triggers the feeling that I’m being held down and can’t escape. And it’s not the fun, sexy kind of unable to escape (which involves someone I trust to respect my boundaries). It’s the terror of being at the mercy of someone who doesn’t care that I want them to stop. And all my life I’d internalized the message that I was making a big deal out of nothing; that the perspective of the person tickling me “it looks cute”/”you’re laughing, it’s fun” is more valid than mine.
From a feminist perspective I always believed intellectually that I had the right to tell someone to stop touching me. But it would come out as a combination request and apology. Getting involved in my local BDSM scene was what taught me how to ask for what I wanted and specify what I didn’t. Instead of consenting to “sex” I consented to specific acts separately. Just getting used to that process helped me internalize the conviction that consenting to one thing didn’t imply consent to anything else. The community censure for anyone not respecting a safeword *immediately* taught me that “stop” doesn’t need an apology or explanation and it means right now.
Ironically the only time I’ve ever actually used a safeword was in a vanilla environment. I was at a bar and a couple of boys were tickling me and wouldn’t stop when I told them to. After a “stop” and an angry “stop” saying “red” was my go-to for trying to communicate that I expected them to stop NOW. (which they didn’t since they were vanilla and didn’t recognize it as a safeword) I got angry at them, and was stunned to realize that it was the first time I’d ever felt, without any doubts, that I had the right to expect that when I told them to stop they would stop, and that I didn’t owe them a justification or explanation for not enjoying or tolerating something they expected me to.
I’m not saying the entire scene is a haven filled with people who always communicate clearly and always respect boundaries. But I think it does a far better job than society in general at teaching people how to talk about what they do and don’t want.
Yes, yes, this. I am very ticklish, which is something my brother took advantage of many times when I was a child. I learned to defend myself with elbow stabs and vicious flailing, and have had to do so to friends and boyfriends who thought it was funny that they could take over control of my body without my permission. It’s not funny, and it’s not cool.
Yes! Couldn’t be more in agreement. I was in an awful, manipulative relationship with a man who would tickle me frequently. For a good year afterward, any stray, unexpected caress from my new lover would make me flinch, and I’d go into a sort of instant combat mode. It still sometimes happens.
On weekend mornings when I wanted to sleep in, he’d wake up early and tickle me until I ran away from the bed to get away, and couldn’t go back to sleep. He always insisted that I enjoyed it. I was clearly not getting my point across. I think it was a power demonstration.
It’s a shame I wasn’t aware of these ideas a lot sooner. Still, progress is being made. Thanks!
Count me in for one more person who’s used a safeword in a vanilla context. My boyfriend and I (who frequently have kinky sex) were having vanilla sex the other night, and I got triggered for some old crap. I said “yellow” when I realized that something was going wrong, and “red” as soon as I realized that it wasn’t quite so transitory. Those words were right there when I started to panic, and even though we weren’t currently in a scene, he knew that that meant to stop and regroup.
Just wanted to note that the word “Uncle!” in tickling contexts is generally used like a safeword. If someone is saying “Uncle,” the other person is supposed to stop. But it comes with uncomfortable baggage, about how the person saying “uncle” is weak and inferior.