Sex Communication Tactic Derived from S&M #2: Safewords and Check-Ins
2010 3 Jul
Everyone knows about BDSM safewords … or at least, everyone thinks they know about safewords. But one of the initial moments that really impressed me about my current boyfriend was when I asked him, many moons ago, if he knew what a safeword is. He paused, then answered, “I think I’m familiar with the idea, but I probably don’t know much more than a stereotype, so I’d like to hear you define it.” Humility and open-minded curiosity are so incredibly hot!
Righto. Hot boyfriend aside, I’m here to explain safewords and check-ins, and how those concepts can exemplify excellent sexual communication for everyone — not just S&Mers — in a world that doesn’t do a good job teaching anyone how to communicate sexually.
When two (or more) people have a BDSM encounter together, generally they set a safeword — a word that anyone can say at any time to stop the action. (Sometimes people don’t use safewords. This is their choice and I totally respect it. I would not recommend going without safewords for anyone who doesn’t know their partner extremely well, and I would be seriously sketched out by anyone who pressured a partner to go without safewords.)
When I give advice about setting safewords, I usually offer the following:
A) Some people like to say that it’s good to use a safeword that’s jolting, and is likely to make your partner feel totally unsexy. Isn’t there a “Family Guy” episode in which Lois & Peter’s safeword is “banana” or something?
B) In my experience, the generally accepted safewords in the S&M community are “safeword” and, more commonly, “red”. I consider it useful to go with the “public standard” because that means that in the future, you’re likely to be attuned to the correct word if you practice BDSM with other partners as well. (It also means that if you ever do S&M in a public space such as a dungeon, everyone in the place will recognize your safeword if you scream it.)
C) At first I wasn’t that excited about this, but I’ve grown to love the fact that the safeword “red” also sometimes encompasses “green” — and “yellow”. That means that if I’m in the middle of an S&M encounter, I can say “red” and my partner will stop; I can then catch my breath and say “green”, which means “by God keep going!” Or, if I’m a little uncertain about the territory but don’t actually want my partner to stop — if I just want my partner to be a little bit cautious — then I can say “yellow” (and, of course, I can move to “green” if I become really psyched, or shift to “red” if I really want my partner to stop).
I know that this probably doesn’t sound sexy at all, but it totally can be! Consider the following example: during my last vacation to America, I had an S&M encounter with a dude I’ll refer to as Klark. (It’s not my fault. He requested the pseudonym.) At one point, Klark was experimenting with hurting me, and I had my eyes closed and was whimpering / crying out in a totally glorious way. (The poor overnight desk clerk. He was only one short flight of stairs away from us.) I think Klark was legitimately having trouble detecting whether I was enjoying myself, though — understandably, because we had only just met, and I enjoy sinking myself into dramatic masochistic misery — so he leaned over me and said, in a low dark voice, “Red, yellow, green.” Immediately, I gasped back “Green”. Because he spoke in a gritty and dominant voice, and the check-in was quick, we were able to maintain the mood — and it was actually kind of hot in itself.
Which brings me to the other thing: check-ins. Sometimes, you want to check in with your partner. Which can be easy: you can just say, “Hey, how does this feel?” or, as a more precise example, “Give me a rating of 1-10 on how good this feels (or how much this hurts).” But if you want to do it quickly and without shifting the mood, you can do it as I outline above in the Klark example. Or even quicker, as for example with the hand-squeeze system, where the participants agree ahead of time that you can squeeze another person’s hand twice and expect two squeezes back — and if there aren’t two return squeezes, it’s time to stop and figure out what’s going wrong. (Squeeze system: also very helpful when gags are involved.) (And here’s a literary example of check-ins in a vanilla encounter.)
Sometimes submissives will have a hard time safewording — whether out of pride, inexperience, or eagerness to please — and that’s another reason check-ins can be good even when there’s a set safeword. If you aren’t sure how to read your partner’s reactions and you suspect ze may be uncomfortable with what you are doing, then you might consider checking in even if ze hasn’t safeworded, because your suspicion may be right.
What I love about safewords and check-ins:
1) Hypothetically, mainstream society acknowledges that anyone could say no at any point during sex, but in practice, this is really hard. A variety of forces — girls socially pressured not to be so-called “cock-teases”, boys socially pressured to supposedly “prove their manliness”, and everyone anxious to please their partners — work against people’s capacity to say no; and while there is a vague understanding that “no means no”, that vagueness is as far as it gets. There’s no explicit framework in place for how to say “no”, and no understanding of how to continue an encounter (or relationship) after one’s partner says no. Even worse, there’s an assumed linear progression of sexual activity — the best example is the “base system”, which places sexual interaction on a metaphorical baseball diamond where “first base” = groping and “home base” = penis-in-vagina sex. Have I mentioned that I hate the base system?
So anyway, the biggest moral of the story with safewords and check-ins is that consent does not only happen once. Consent is always happening, and can always be renegotiated or withdrawn. Adapting my understanding of sexuality to reflect this — even in my non-BDSM sex — might have been the best thing that ever happened to my sex life.
2) On a related note: Good sex is not about entitlement. If we acknowledge that anyone can safeword out of any sexual act at any time, then we acknowledge that no one is entitled to any kind of sex from a partner — ever. If your partner loves you but doesn’t want to have sex with you? That’s a respectable choice. If you’re really turned on, but your partner can’t stand the idea of having sex right now? That’s a respectable choice. Those two are easy, I think, but how about these?
+ If your partner used to do something with you a lot, but doesn’t want to do it anymore? That’s a respectable choice.
+ If you are married to your partner, but ze doesn’t want to have sex? That’s a respectable choice.
+ If your partner performed a sexual act with another partner but would prefer not to do it with you? That’s a respectable choice.
+ If you know your partner likes a certain kind of sex, but they don’t want to do it right now? That’s a respectable choice.
+ If you think a certain act is “mild” and “taken for granted”, like kissing or tickling, but your partner doesn’t want to do it? That’s a respectable choice.
By the way, if you (like I once did) feel as though your partner is entitled to sex of any kind, I encourage you to re-examine that feeling. Ditto if you’ve got a little voice in your head telling you that you “ought to” be up for sex all the time just because you don’t get it very often … or that you “ought to” be up for sex if you’ve done it with your partner before … or whatever. The other best thing that ever happened to my sex life was when I finally, finally, finally internalized the idea that my partners don’t ever “deserve” sex for any reason — that there’s no reason I ever “should” be having sex — and that the only reason I should ever, ever, ever do anything sexual is because I legitimately want to.
Of course, if you truly believe that you need a certain kind of sexuality in your life, then you’re absolutely entitled to ask your partner to consider it — and you’re entitled to leave the relationship if ze isn’t up for it. But this doesn’t mean that you “deserve” to do that act with that person, or that your partner “owes” you a certain act.
And hey, if your partner isn’t down with one specific sexual act, then that means you’ve got the chance to explore all kinds of other sexuality. Another other best thing that ever happened to my sexuality? Quite possibly, it’s my current boyfriend — whose religious adherence has drastically limited our physical sexual options.
Check out the previous post in this series, Sex Communication Tactic Derived from S&M #1: Checklists, not to mention the next post in this series, Sex Communication Tactic Derived from S&M #3: Journal-Keeping.
Tags: advice, BDSM, Chastity Boy, communication, community, pro-sex outreach, storytime, terms
“Humility and open-minded curiosity are so incredibly hot!”
For some reason it really bothers me when people say things like that. I know it’s a joke, but… dunno. It feels like it cheapens my own motives somehow. Probably has something to with the “guys just want sex” stereotype (I’m male, btw). Anyway, probably just my own problem I need to deal with.
That aside, I really like this post. The whole red-yellow-green thing is awesome. I definitely want to try this out. And the suggestions about checking in make total sense, and I would do well to keep them in mind. Having something like red-yellow-green to do so without breaking the mood is fantastic.
After commenting, I realized I had more to say.
“By the way, if you (like I once did) feel as though your partner is entitled to sex of any kind, I encourage you to re-examine that feeling. Ditto if you’ve got a little voice in your head telling you that you “ought to” be up for sex all the time just because you don’t get it very often … or that you “ought to” be up for sex if you’ve done it with your partner before … or whatever.”
As a guy I actually relate to this really strongly. Is that common for guys? I’ve been in so many situations before where I’ve ended up having sex I didn’t really want to have, largely because I felt like I didn’t have much of an option to say no. I don’t feel at all traumatized by the incidents (although I recall feeling kind of icky afterwards, but it went away after a day or so), and there wasn’t any significant pressure from my partners. But still I felt extremely pressured somehow.
So yeah, thanks for that. Really, really thanks. I definitely will examine this.
On the other hand, there are a lot of cases where although I don’t particularly feel like sex, I’m fine with it. If a parter had asked me out loud, “Do you want to have sex?” I would have probably said, “Meh, not really. But whatever.” And I feel good about the sex in those situations, even if I didn’t particular want it.
Yeah. Sex, like any other aspect of human interaction, can be really complex. And I really love your blog and how you’re examining so much of this. You’re helping me think about things a lot more clearly, I think.
Clarisse,
“Ditto if you’ve got a little voice in your head telling you that you “ought to” be up for sex all the time just because you don’t get it very often”
I suppose perceived or actual scarcity will be an important factor, though, because perceived lack of choice is likely to influence behaviour, positively or negatively. Pretty much all of the discussion here is based on the premise of a mindset of (at least relative) abundance of potential partners. This is certainly not the case for most men, and if controlled for differences in desire, probably also not the case for most women. While I suppose better communication may help alleviate that issue to a degree, I don’t think it will ever go away entirely.
@Cessen — “Humility and open-minded curiosity are so incredibly hot!” … For some reason it really bothers me when people say things like that. I know it’s a joke, but … dunno. It feels like it cheapens my own motives somehow.
Well, it is a little bit objectifying, I guess. When I was younger I used to be much more aggressive about “objectifying men”, until I realized that I was just sort of externalizing feminist anger about feeling objectified all the time. These days I still do it sometimes (usually to be funny, and sometimes because I genuinely do think things are hot), but for what it’s worth, I try to watch out for it … although I also appreciate it when offended people acknowledge that it’s partly their own trigger (as you say, perhaps something “you need to deal with”).
When making similar jokes, I’ve had boyfriends in the past say genuinely hurt things like, “Aren’t I more than sex to you?” I think that those who said things like that were often surprised by their own reactions as well, because when I apologized and tried to go deeper into what was bothering them, they demurred. It probably has to do with how it’s a weird reversal of stereotype, and men don’t necessarily feel comfortable setting boundaries, because “men are always supposed to want sex”.
Which brings me to ….
As a guy I actually relate to this really strongly. Is that common for guys?
Yeah, I think it really is. Again, there’s a social myth that men are “always supposed to want sex” and that women’s touch is “always desired”. And that creates problems for men when they don’t want to have sex, I think, because it makes it hard for them to articulate it (or even acknowledge it). We’ve gotten into this a lot in my gigantic manliness thread, but there’s over a thousand comments there, so it’s not for the faint of heart. :grin:
And I feel good about the sex in those situations, even if I didn’t particular want it.
I always meant to write about this, and then Rabbit White wrote a post that I thought was good enough that I ended up shelving my own plans to write about it. Maybe I still will someday, though. Here’s RW’s.
@Sam — Pretty much all of the discussion here is based on the premise of a mindset of (at least relative) abundance of potential partners. This is certainly not the case for most men, and if controlled for differences in desire, probably also not the case for most women. While I suppose better communication may help alleviate that issue to a degree, I don’t think it will ever go away entirely.
No, probably not, but I do think it’s important for people to think about what kind of pressure is leading them to have sex if they’re in a “non-abundant” period. I mean, when I was a teenager I was definitely easily manipulated into making out with guys that I had no interest in, because I was so accustomed to being an unattractive skinny nerd girl … and then afterwards I would feel bad about the situation and myself. That’s an example of a time when sexual activity due to scarcity is happening out of social pressure and doesn’t contain any real desire (“wow! a guy actually wants me! I don’t want him, but I guess I should go for it because I don’t want to die a virgin …”). In retrospect, I would rather not have had those encounters, though I suppose they didn’t particularly damage me. When I encourage people to avoid having sex due to a sense of scarcity, that’s the kind of thing I mean.
This all reminds me of the introduction to Yes Means Yes, which gets into this a bit. When, oh when will you read that book? ;)
@Clarisse:
“objectifying”
Holy shit, I had not thought of it in those terms before. Ha ha. Suddenly a lot more things make sense. Still need to process, but thanks for that.
A bit of unprocessed stuff that might be of interest: I think the biggest reason comments like that bug me is because as a child/teenager many older women (strangely I never got such comments from men) would tell me that things were “attractive” to women. And it was really transparent in their tone that they were trying to influence my behavior and mold me, rather than just making an observation. And it bothered me even more when I already was–or strove to be–what they were describing but for other reasons. Like, “dammit, now people are going to think that I’m doing this to get girls, which has nothing to do with it! Gah!”
So I think that’s where a lot of the trigger came from: being humble and open-minded are things that I strive for (although often fail at). And I’m naturally a curious person. So reading what you wrote made me want to scream, “BUT THAT’S NOT WHY I DO IT! GAH!”
Re: pressured sex
I think probably the worst situation I was in was when I was in a sexual relationship with a girl that more often than not wanted to have sex in situations that made me uncomfortable. Not because they made me uncomfortable. But just by coincidence, I guess. Like, she enjoyed sex in her bedroom at her parent’s house (who are quite conservative and would not approve) while they were asleep in the other room, and that made me extremely uncomfortable. She also enjoyed sex outside, and that also made me uncomfortable.
(She also preferred sex without condoms, and that really made me uncomfortable since she wasn’t on any contraceptives. Often she would try to seduce me into it, wordlessly. I managed to insist every time, but it was like this burden of responsibility because I could tell she was disappointed. Although she would assure me verbally when we weren’t having sex that she appreciated my responsibility. But… arg.)
Aside from the parenthetical, I find nothing wrong with her wanting to do those things. But for me they were really uncomfortable and I didn’t want to do them.
On the other hand, if we were in a protected, safe environment by my standards, her interest decreased considerably. I also don’t fault her for that (she may have issues that I don’t know about). But it created a royally crap situation. I think for both of us. And it resulted in me having a lot of sex that didn’t want to have. I felt really icky about the whole thing.
Sam noted something that I think is important. At the time, I basically thought she was my only option for sex. I don’t think of myself as a particularly desirable person, so I feel “lucky” whenever someone wants to have sex with me. So I felt kind of trapped, like “It’s either this sex, or no sex at all.” And it took me a while to choose the latter. And honestly, it left me feeling kind of used, although rationally I know that’s not the case.
@Cessen — And it was really transparent in their tone that they were trying to influence my behavior and mold me, rather than just making an observation.
Huh, that’s interesting. I have a lot of similar feelings about certain guys saying that certain female behaviors are attractive. Out of curiosity, though, if a woman is specifically trying to praise a certain non-typically-masculine characteristic as hot (partly in an attempt to make men with that characteristic feel good about themselves in the face of icky social standards), how do you feel about that? When men tell me that certain non-typically-feminine things that I do (e.g. not shaving my legs) are hot, I always feel pleased and (often) reassured rather than manipulated.
She also preferred sex without condoms, and that really made me uncomfortable since she wasn’t on any contraceptives. Often she would try to seduce me into it, wordlessly. I managed to insist every time, but it was like this burden of responsibility because I could tell she was disappointed. Although she would assure me verbally when we weren’t having sex that she appreciated my responsibility. But… arg.
You’re not the first man I’ve heard tell a story like this. I guess men are expected to be happy if their girlfriend is down with doin’ it without protection. It seems like society doesn’t make much space for men to object to women who pressure for sex without protection. Ick.
Your comment about scarcity sex reminds me strongly about my teenage years. Sigh. I have similar “used but rationally I know that’s not the case” feelings, I think.
My friend and fellow blogger Thomas has written an annotated version of this post.
@Clarisse:
“Huh, that’s interesting. I have a lot of similar feelings about certain guys saying that certain female behaviors are attractive. Out of curiosity, though, if a woman is specifically trying to praise a certain non-typically male characteristic as hot (partly in an attempt to make men with that characteristic feel good about themselves in the face of icky social standards), how do you feel about that? When men tell me that certain non-typically feminine things that I do (e.g. not shaving my legs) are hot, I always feel pleased and (often) reassured rather than manipulated.”
Too be honest, I doubt I’m consistent in my reactions. Which suggests even more strongly that it’s just my own problem that I need to deal with. ;-)
But there are a few factors that come to mind (though I’m sure they’re not the only ones).
First, it probably depends somewhat on whether I’m insecure about it or not. If I’m insecure about it, I’ll probably appreciate it (I’m quite insecure about my physical attractiveness, for example). If I’m not, it raises the chances of it bugging me (I’m not particularly insecure about most aspects of my personality, for example–although there are exceptions).
Second, I think a lot of it has to do with how it’s delivered. The disembodied “Trait X is attractive” is far more likely to bother me than “I find trait X attractive”.
Third, a lot of the comments I received as a kid were about being sensitive and caring etc. and how that was so attractive to women (they’re a monolith, apparently… sigh). And I think combined with various media and other messages I got when growing up, that helped push me into a nasty Nice Guy(tm) complex that I had for a good few years in high school and college. So comments along those lines (“being sensitive/caring/good listener are so hot!”) especially bug me due to association. I do want to be those things, but it’s extremely important to me that I make a clear separation between (essentially) trying to be a good person and trying to be attractive. It really messes me up when I let those motives overlap too much in my head. Especially since the former should trump the latter if ever they conflict.
As a last note, I almost universally do not like being complimented about “manly” things. I think because I feel like people are trying to box me in. I take being called “masculine” or “manly” as kind of an insult, actually, unless it’s obviously in jest. I don’t have a very positive relationship with masculinity. It’s only ever been used to try to make me do things I don’t want, or to try to make me avoid things that I do want.
And for what it’s worth, I find unshaven legs/pits quite attractive on women. It speaks to me of an independence of mind and a rejection of stupid social norms, which appeals to me greatly. And with pits especially, I actually find it more visually pleasing as well. With legs I’m pretty indifferent visually, but it still makes me feel like there’s something kick-ass about the person.
Clarisse,
I can only answer that for myself, of course, but compliments are a tricky thing. I think the human ego particularly likes compliments about areas in which it is insecure. In my case, I’ve been told how smart I am from childhood days on, so someone telling my about that isn’t nearly as appreciated as someone telling my “you’re hot”. At the same time, it is more difficult to accept the latter compliment as honest (and true), because the complimented fact has not yet been firmly established as a part of my self-concept. Does that make sense?
@ Cessen -
(Time for Motley to play Monday-morning-quarterback again.)
Out of curiosity, why do you think that part I bolded?
I just ask because
…That’s quite a few coincidences right there. Suspiciously many.
Especially considering
and
I’ve been on the other side of this relationship very, very often. (Possibly “always.”) It was almost never a coincidence, though my partners often thought so, when they noticed the pattern at all.
Either that’s a lot of coincidences… or she’s someone who gets off on making people do things they don’t want to do.
(Yes, such people exist, and no, they’re not universally male, obviously.) Whether this is indicative of mild sadism or outright sociopathy, I’m not sure I can say.
That’s a good example of something that came up a few times over in the Longest Thread Ever; I don’t think telling a generation of people that “acting in accordance with my politics will make you attractive to women” really helped anyone. Largely, I suspect, because young guys don’t necessarily have a “Why the hell do you think you can speak for all womankind” alarm set on their bullshit detector.* A lot of people ended up believing it (but without having a better grasp of the beliefs involved than anyone else has), and then turn bitter when they think they are acting in accordance with ‘em, and find that it doesn’t actually guarantee romantic success.
(*What you said about
yeah.)
@ Sam -
But, paradoxically, people seem to be really iffy about compliments in areas where they’re most insecure, because there’s that level of skepticism.
For example, if someone compliments me on my fashion sense… I’m going to suspect an ulterior motive. (Even more than usual.)
(I’m not sure if I’m a useful example here, because my reaction to compliments is probably non-standard.)
@ Clarisse -
Heh. Now I get why that one part was the one that got the squick, on the other thread.
*Or any other kind, for that matter!
@Motley:
Okay, it may not be coincidence as such. But knowing her as I do (I am still in touch with her and on good terms), I’m certain is was not malicious in nature. She is in fact someone that I hold in high regard.
In any case, there are multiple possible explanations, though I won’t specifically ascribe any to her because I do not know. But here are but two hypothesis:
1. Maybe she gets off on risk and uncertainty. There are people like this, and it has nothing to do with wanting to make their partner uncomfortable. It is simply a sexual need of theirs. If this is the case, then it is no wonder why our needs conflicted so perfectly, as I am quite opposite.
2. Maybe she has abuse in her past, and therefore actually feels much safer when there are other people, or the possibility of people, near at hand.
And with regard to condom usage, I actually do know that one: she found them somewhat physically uncomfortable. We tried many things to try to mitigate that, but only with limited success. And I strongly suspect that, like most people, myself included, she simply didn’t appreciate the interruption it creates.
And I must confess, I was not entirely truthful when I said, “I managed to insist every time…”. There were a few times when I did not, especially toward the end of the relationship. And those instances made me feel extremely shitty. But I cannot and will not entirely blame her for those instances, as it takes two to tango, so to speak. I had insisted before, and I could have again.
Another thing I feel I must point out is that (excepting for the condom issue) I rarely, if ever, expressed my discomfort. At least in unambiguous terms. So although it could be argued that she should have suspected and asked about it, I find it difficult to hold her to that standard since I know I often fall short of it myself.
All-in-all I stand by my original assesment: there was nothing malicious going on at all. It was just a nasty mis-match of needs, combined with insecurities, that resulted in me having a lot of sex that I didn’t want to have. I do not hold her at fault for it.
Excellent post getting back to my other postings about safewords, in certain situations such as new partners and riskier situations such as rope and fear instance words should always be used.
A sexier approach is not just a check in but a adjustment (not in a high low approach), for instance a flogger may adjust his beating by stroke or timing or place, but that is on example, a person ordered to step in something dirty and slimy which can include outdoor bondage, may use the word to indicate that he or she may want the stepping in or covering to be more quicker and less and more gradual so he or she is comfortable and more submitting.
I’m not into BDSM, so forgive me if I’m being dense, but these statements seem contradictory to me:
“Consent is always happening, and can always be renegotiated or withdrawn.”
“Sometimes people don’t use safewords. This is their choice and I totally respect it.”
If you don’t have a safeword, not even the word “no,” you can’t withdraw your consent. You don’t have any way of communicating that you don’t want to do this anymore.
@ZeSpec — This is why I usually advise people not to go safeword-free unless they know each other extremely well, and the top can read the bottom well enough to tell if she/he/ze withdraws consent.
As an example of what I’m talking about, I once did a scene with a partner in which I did have a safeword, but was unaccustomed to using it. At one point he was hitting me and I was crying, begging for mercy, etc. Then he twisted my arm in an unaccustomed way and I said, “Ow!”
Saying “ow” was totally an unusual reaction, and something he wasn’t used to hearing from me — so he stopped. I hadn’t even safeworded yet — but he could tell he’d done something that wasn’t working for me, because he knew me well.
@Clarisse: Well, okay. I guess if you can read one another well enough, it has the same general effect as a safeword.
What I’m trying to understand now is, what’s the benefit to going without a safeword? I can see how it would kill the mood if it came up, but if you really know one another that well, then you’ll also know one another’s limits well enough that the safeword will never come up. Keeping it around as an emergency measure, in case your freakouts change without warning, seems like the sort of thing any reasonable person would do.
@ZeSpec — Well, the flip answer is that “sexuality isn’t reasonable”. A more extensive answer is simply that some people, who feel BDSM as a really important and particular way of expressing their sexuality, find that they prefer a situation in which they genuinely don’t feel in control of what’s happening in any way. Some of those people opt to take the risk of going without safewords, because they prefer that risk to the feeling of having even the slight bit of control that a safeword gives. This is not for everyone.
I find it funny that a safeword gives a feeling of control, but the fact of trusting the person you’re with does not.
Well, whatever. I don’t have to understand it.
@ZeSpec – From my point of view it’s just a risk management thing. In models like the PMBOK risk management stuff, people talk about risk management as catering for known risks, known unknown risks and unknown unknown risks – which is things you know might go wrong (I might tie the ropes wrong and impact circulation, I should check my partner’s extremities to assess for that regularly), things you know that you can’t know (my partner might have an undetected heart disease, I should make sure there’s a way to get myself out of the cuffs if they have a heart attack and can’t let me out) and things that you don’t know you don’t know (Something I haven’t thought of might go wrong – what can I do to protect myself?)
The safeword thing is a case of managing known unknowns. Maybe my partner is some kind of loony and I never knew? Maybe we’ll have a communication breakdown and end up in court justifying our actions. Maybe something will go wrong. With a safeword – you’ve got a safety net for that sort of risk – it’s not a great safety net – but it’s a mutual assurance that there’s a communication channel that won’t be misunderstood or misinterpreted, and can be easily explained to a third party after the fact.
There’s also known risks (I like to scream ‘no, no, please stop’ when I don’t actually want my partner to stop, how do I express my need to halt in an emergency without ruining the play by shouting shit I don’t want my partner to take at face value?) and probably some unknown unknowns (I expect safe words are good for something I haven’t thought of and don’t know that I need to think of – having them around seems like a good plan).
You can extend your risk management from there to say maybe using safewords is a risk. Maybe that will mess with our enjoyment of playing on the edge and our sense of trust. Lets make the safeword a big deal – lets call it a crisis word and say that using it is relationship ending, that it’s a one time safety net. Lets make a psychological game of playing up the fact that nothing will force us to observe it. Keep the fear/trust/edgy dynamic – while still having that safety net there – it’s a diminished safety net, but it’s still better than not having one.
And we could just trust people, but in terms of risk management – that’s a stupid idea. Why have one idea to keep us safe? Why gamble everything on one risk mitigation strategy breaking down? Sometimes we trust the wrong people. Sometimes the people we trust make mistakes. Sometimes shit just goes sideways for crazy, unpredictable reasons. No matter how much you trust people and how hard you work on knowing who you can, and who you can’t trust – sometimes that won’t be enough. And if being able to shout ‘Coconut’ or ‘Lava lamp’ or ‘Red’ during an intimate moment adds a tiny bit more safety (and for kinksters, I’d argue that it adds a LOT more safety) – why not go down that path?
On an obscure side note, risk management types also talk occasionally unknown known risks (I know that my partner has Diabetes, but I don’t know all the implications of that) – just in case the known/known unknown/unknown unknown thing wasn’t confusing enough.
@ ZeSpec–
I’m not sure I’m entirely qualified to comment, but I think what Clarisse is getting at is verisimilitude. Playing with a safeword (but with an agreement to ignore “no” and “stop”) feels more real than just a “normal” interaction, where everything stops as soon as somebody says “no,” while playing without a safeword feels even more real than that, for obvious reasons.
I’m speaking as an outsider here, but it seems like the whole thing is about compromises between safety and realism–or maybe about how to maximize the latter without compromising the former.
@Scootah, this paragraph is confusing:
“Using safewords is a risk”: using safewords makes it more likely you’ll have a traumatic experience? No, that’s not what you mean, it looks like you mean using safewords makes the relationship less enjoyable. That’s not a risk though; it’s a downside to using safewords, sure, but you don’t end up damaged for it, unless perhaps you’re reinstituting a safety word upon a previously enjoyable safeword-less relationship. But then you start talking about emphasizing the fact that the safeword is just an arbitrary communication tactic and the only thing actually keeping you safe is mutual trust; apart from being a kinky thing, that awareness could also make people more cautious…
So what is using safewords a risk to, exactly?
@Motley:
It’s not obvious to me. I assumed (naïvely?) that since kinksters are accustomed to self-imposed mindfucks, that they would not have trouble ignoring the fact that they have a safeword.
I guess it’s bad policy to generalize like that, maybe there are some people who genuinely can’t get the most out of their kink without discarding the safeword. But I would guess that there are far more people who would get just as much pleasure out of choosing not to think about their safeword, and for them, discarding the safeword seems like a token.
I guess tokens mean a lot to some people–I’ve heard horror stories about vanilla marriages that broke apart because someone lost the wedding ring. But It seems to me that if what you need is a token, you can get a collar or a creative piercing. Giving up even a little safety for the sake of a token seems irresponsible.
@Clarisse:
I notice that you are careful to avoid expressing disapproval of the sort of arrangement where you hook up with someone you don’t know very well, ask them to do terrible things to you, and decline to specify a safeword, consent flag, or any other escape clause. You “don’t recommend” it, which is good, but it seems to me that by the definition of “consent” that you’ve provided here, that sort of act is literally non-consensual. The parties involved might have agreed to it, and they might be okay with it even when it goes bad–but since you can’t withdraw consent, it’s not consensual.
You seem to be pretty vehement that non-consensual relationships are bad for everyone ever. So what do you think of that sort of arrangement? And if you think it’s bad, why not say as much?
I might be misreading you. That seems to happen a lot.
Hah! I’m not really qualified to say how many people use safewords and how many don’t, but I am excellently qualified to inform you that irresponsibility is… let’s say “not rare.” Hell, the fact that I have a sex life is probably a testament to that. “People willing to give up some safety in exchange for fun” is a category that probably includes most of the human race.
@Motley, if some people find it genuinely fun to give up the safeword, and cannot get that fun in any other way, I think that’s unfortunate, but I’m not going to blame them for doing it. But if the fun in question is the sort of fun you get from having a token of your commitment, and not the sort of fun you get from taking unnecessary risks, I think using a safe token is the better option.
Basically I’m just saying that people should think very fucking hard about what they would get out of a risk before taking it. That seems to be more or less the consensus among that part of the BDSM community that I’m familiar with.
@ZeSpec — Maybe it will help if I offer some paragraphs from Thomas MacAulay Millar’s excellent annotated version of my safewords post:
Clarisse mentioned that some people “don’t use safewords.” From the context, she’s talking not about people for whom no means no in scene, but people for whom there is no definitive way for the bottom to stop the scene. And perhaps readers can tell from Clarisse’s tone that that’s … the advanced class. You’ll find the safety police in any BDSM space or community that finger-wag about it, and the swaggering more-kinky-than-thous that brag about it. But what does it mean?
I can only tell you what it means for me. There are times I give up my safeword: only to my spouse. We’ve been playing together for about a decade and a half. If I give up my safeword, and that’s something we do rarely, it doesn’t mean I don’t have limits. I have limits! Yes I do! There are things I can’t handle, mentally or physically, and things I never want to handle! There are “hard limits”, things I’ve said I’m just not willing to do. And there are soft limits, things I don’t think I’m ready for but I’m willing to bump up against them and see what happens. If I give up my safeword, it means I have limits, but instead of telling her when I’ve reached them, I’m going to trust her to listen to me and watch me and make that decision. I may say, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” and she may decide I really can’t. Or she may decide I’ve got more in my that I believe I do. There’s a lot of risk associated with that. But there’s a trust in those moments and a closeness that does not go away when the scene is over. Or ever, really. Risk and reward: we set our own tolerances.
Some folks may have come across the term “consensual nonconsent.” It’s one of those terms with multiple meanings. Some people use it to describe any situation where the bottom is saying “no, don’t” but has not yet safeworded — a usage I find less than useful. Others use it to describe roleplays of nonconsensual situations. The last common usage, though, is that which I like to describe using Hunter S. Thompson’s phrase, “buy the ticket, take the ride.” It means that the bottom consents to be in a situation I’ve just described, where the top decides if the bottom needs to stop, often but not always around specific activities, and usually (wisely) heavily negotiated.
@ZeSpec – What Clarisse said.
Hunter S. Thompson’s phrase, “buy the ticket, take the ride.”
This is a great way to explain this and I intend to steal it. There is a wild head space that drug users, extreme sports types and some kinksters chase – which comes from making a decision to lose control.
The moment when you swallow a tiny white circle of unknown substance, when you roll forward off of a 2km high cliff edge and throw yourself into free space, when you tell a sadist with a knife who’s not going to listen to your safe word, that they hit like a girl – when you know that what happens next is completely beyond your control. The adrenaline high that precedes your first drug use, that comes while you’re wondering if you really can jump off a cliff and if your parachute really will open and that comes when you go to the extreme edges of sexuality and risk – are utterly incredible.
The difference between that kind of kink and what most scene kinksters do is the difference between base jumping into a Fjord in high winds and going on Space Mountain at Disneyland.
If you’re into that head space, there’s certainly a risk of blowing it by trying to add too much safety. To a large extent – the lack of control is the point.
For some people I know – any kind of vaguely sane and clearly consensual dynamic isn’t enough. I know a very lovely, very attractive girl who thinks BDSM is strictly for weirdos – but only dates guys who have prison tattoo’s and think that ‘she needed a learnin’ is a perfectly good reason to give their spouse a black eye. My friend is a pretty rare case I acknowledge, and I discourage people from going to that extent to meet their kinks – I think they’re more like base jumpers who jump with a sturdy umbrella instead of a parachute. But those people are very, very rare and outside of anything I’d give advice or recommendations for.
@Clarisse:
Thank you, that’s a useful example.
Deciding if the bottom needs to stop is different from deciding if the bottom has withdrawn consent. It’s ordinary for people to withdraw their consent when they don’t need to.
If we must follow the rule that “consent can always be renegotiated or withdrawn” then it must also be possible for the bottom to withdraw consent due to cold feet. Of course, a bottom who has that problem shouldn’t have gotten into consensual non-consent in the first place, but the problem remains: Consent must always be retractable, yet in this situation, it is not.
I suppose this means that the definition of consent given here is a bit oversimplified for my purposes.
Some other possibilities:
Consent cannot always be withdrawn; but when it cannot be, it must be because that’s actually not a practical possibility, and not because you haven’t provided a way to withdraw consent.
There are some situations in which it is ethical to have sex without full consent; but only when you have gotten as close to full consent as possible given the parameters of the scene.
Consensual non-consent is not ethical; but sometimes the ethical failure is small enough, and the payoff large enough, that it is an acceptable ethical failure.
I see some problems with each of these. #1 doesn’t allow for edgeplay at all, only for people like that commenter on the annotated version of this post who loses the ability to think about consent when they are aroused. #2 doesn’t specify any limits on what the parameters of the scene can be, opening the possibility of life-long binding slave contracts, which apparently some people really want, but I still think people should be allowed to leave such arrangements, and that means they’re not really binding. #3 assumes that it’s ever acceptable to do something unethical for pleasure.
My tone is getting confrontational again, I’m sorry.
I’d like to make it clear that I am only engaging in this argument because I want to resolve the contradictions that I see here. I don’t have any personal objection to any of the arrangements described here (or in the annotated entry). I still want to work out what principles make these things okay, and what sorts of arrangements are not okay.
If this isn’t the place for that sort of thing then I’ll go elsewhere.
Oh, dear. I think I missed an obvious implication.
The top in a consensual non-consent relationship must read the bottom’s body language well enough to tell:
1. Whether they can handle what’s going on.
2. Whether they like it.
3. Whether they want it to continue.
These are independent variables. If the bottom can handle what’s going on, and likes it, but still wants it to stop, the top has to read that as well.
This is to make sure that the bottom has the ability to withdraw their consent. If the bottom wants the scene to stop, it is the top’s moral responsibility to make the scene stop. This means that if the bottom wants the scene to stop, doesn’t give any visible indication of it, and the top keeps the scene going, the top is violating consent, and this is still the top’s fault. With great power comes great responsibility.
Did I get all that right?
I’m sorry for taking up so much of your thread.
@ZeSpec — No need to apologize. I really like parsing out consent questions. It’s part of why I blog and probably part of why I fit in so well to the BDSM community (besides the more obvious reasons, that is). I don’t have much time to respond right now, but I would say that your last comment is definitely correct. And briefly, maybe I can say something else to explain what I mean better:
Consent, in itself, is an internal mental/emotional state. It’s not an action and you can’t really describe it using action words — but you can provide examples of actions that are intended to maximize the probability that all partners are communicating consent effectively. So when I say, “Consent is always happening, and can always be renegotiated or withdrawn,” what I mean is that consent, the internal mental/emotional state, can always be renegotiated or withdrawn.
The definition of consent indicates an internal state. All other discussion of it has to do with how to describe and discuss that internal state. It’s unethical to fail to respect a partner’s consent, and it’s unethical to fail to make a good-faith effort to communicate with a partner about their consent. But there aren’t any procedures around communicating about consent that I’m willing to label unethical in themselves. Are some of those procedures risky? Yes, they are. But as long as people are still consenting, the situation is still ethical. The situation only becomes unethical once people stop consenting.
In other words, I see questions around “consensual nonconsent” and other edge play as being primarily practical questions, not ethical questions. The ethics are simple: “Respect consent.” The practical question is the hard part: “How?”
I wanted to add one thing. I don’t want my comments to be taken to mean that I think consent is usually unclear. No. I think that consent is usually clear. I don’t think it’s hard not to rape people. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to convict people of rape. I’m not trying to create a “reasonable doubt” around rape convictions.
This doesn’t seem to be the case for Dw3t-Hthr. From the comments on the annotated version:
Since it is apparent that some people are really amazingly good at reading body language, I will assume that Dw3t-Hthr’s partner can read them well enough to tell whether Dw3t-Hthr can handle the situation, and whether they are enjoying it. That still leaves open the case that Dw3t-Hthr doesn’t like the scene for some arbitrary aesthetic reason or something, and wants it to stop on that basis.
Dw3t-Hthr says they regularly lose the ability to judge whether they want the scene to continue.
But if they can’t do that, the mental state “consent” can’t be withdrawn. I think it might not exist at all, since “consent” means processing the question “Do I want this?” and concluding “yes,” and Dw3t-Hthr is not able to do that at the height of arousal.
I don’t think this means that Dw3t-Hthr should never have sex, I think it plausible that lots of people can’t think about consent sometimes; orgasms tend to make thought difficult.
This is still a case where consent cannot be withdrawn.
So is that okay sometimes, as long as you respect whatever the bottom wants, as soon as they know themselves?
I mean … look, I still think you’re conflating the actions around consent too much with consent itself, as it exists inside our minds. It’s not that Dw3t-Hthr cannot withdraw consent in those situations, it’s that withdrawing consent is an extremely difficult question in practice when she reaches that state. I’ve been in that state myself, though admittedly not as much as she has, so I think I understand what she’s saying.
What exactly do you mean when you say “the mental state consent … might not exist at all”? Consent really means “feeling okay about what’s going on”; how can that not exist?
What she’s outlining is still not a case in which consent cannot be withdrawn, it’s a case in which communicating about consent is incredibly hard. It’s still an issue of practicalities, not consent in itself. And yes, it is okay to get into a situation where it is hard to communicate about consent, as long as a lot of communication about consent has been done beforehand, and everyone involved feels sure that they are going to be okay with what happens in that situation.
I read this:
I took that to mean that Dw3t-Hthr did not understand what they wanted at the time.
I don’t know what Dw3t-Hthr meant, they’re not here. But it seems obvious to me that sometimes, when people get into emotional intense states, they lose some mental capacities, and that might include the capacity to judge whether they want something or not.
I don’t think that’s quite right.
I think you can consent to something you are deeply uncomfortable with, because you judge intellectually that it is a good idea.
I think you can refuse consent to something you like and want, because you judge intellectually that it is a bad idea.
It’s an intellectual thing. Intellectual things become difficult to manage in the heights of passion.
My use of the word “want” shifted in an important way there. It’s one thing to want something in the sense of feeling desire for it, and another thing to want it in the sense that you are willing to accept particular risks and do particular things to get it. Consent requires the latter.
Since it’s become apparent that our definitions of that word “consent” differ, I’m going to give my definition. I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me how yours differs.
Get some coffee, this might take a while.
In order to define “consent” I must first define “judgment”. Judgment is the process whereby people affirm or deny propositions. Examples of propositions include “I want a cookie,” “The Sun is black,” and “Superman is not a dick”. Anything that you can agree or disagree with is a proposition.
We are all judging things all the time. It’s fundamental to our understandings of the world: some things are true and others are false.
Judging need not be a very involved process, but it does need to involve weighing the pros and cons of a proposition. It’s common to ignore some of those pros and cons out of convenience, it’s common to judge before you’re sure you have all the relevant pros and cons, and those pros and cons don’t have to be very well defined.
Judging basically means deciding what to agree with and what to disagree with.
Your own emotions are pros and cons for the purposes of judgment. In fact, I’d say they’re the most common, and most important pros and cons.
Consent is a type of judgment where the proposition being judged is one that calls for you to do something, or have something done to you. Affirming the proposition means you consent to do it, and denying it means you do not.
Consent still has to go through all the same hoops as judgment; you need a proposition to consent to, and you need some pros and cons for it. It’s probably a good idea to get all the relevant pros and cons. Still, it may happen that both the pros and the cons consist entirely of your own emotions, and if you’re sure those are all that matters, that’s okay.
All of the above require some amount of thought, even if it’s mostly subconscious; even if all you’re thinking about is how you feel; and even if your reasoning is “I’ve agreed to this before and nothing’s changed.”
There are situations regularly encountered by all people in which they cannot execute any amount of thought. Sleep, for instance, at least the deepest parts of it.
There are still more situations where people can think, but don’t have control of what to think about. Sometimes when I get really angry I’ll lose the ability to think about the thing I am angry about. Sometimes when I get really invested in an idea, I’ll lose the ability to consider that I might be wrong.
Consenting to something requires you to think about it at least a little, so if you can’t do that, you can’t consent. This is a very common experience. It can be dealt with by anticipating it, and arranging things so that when it happens, everything that would be relevant to your consent has already been dealt with.
ZeSpec, let me shift gears a little bit …. Have you, personally, ever been in a situation in which you believe you were actually incapable of knowing whether or not you were consenting?
I asked about your experience because in my experience, when I get into “communication fuzzy” states like subspace (which Dw3t-Hthr described), I don’t stop consenting, I just stop being able to describe it easily. I can articulate my consent or non-consent if I get pulled out of subspace, like if a partner asks me for a description of what I’m thinking, but in that case, well, I’ve been pulled out of subspace, which is generally a nice space to be. So it’s a question of whether the potential annoyance of pulling me out of subspace to confirm consent is worth it. (I’ll be pleased with a partner if they pull me out to check in on something that was bugging me, but I can’t help being somewhat disappointed if a partner drags me up when nothing was wrong. Usually as partners gain more experience with me they don’t need to drag me up as much. Some partners drag me up more, it’s just their style, and some partners can read me very well without ever dragging me up, I guess because we mesh well instinctively.)
But in none of those cases does my actual internal capability to consent, or not to consent, change. It’s just my ability to communicate that changes.
As a side note, I think it’s worth delineating the difference between “mere consent” and “enthusiastic consent”. Mere consent is agreeing to do something, even if, on balance, you aren’t very happy about it. “Enthusiastic consent” is being psyched about doing something, rather than basically just accepting it. A lot of feminists are now promoting the idea of enthusiastic consent as the gold standard, which I agree with. This doesn’t mean that “mere consent” isn’t consent, though mere consent isn’t usually very much fun (and we want sex to be fun, which is why enthusiastic consent is better than mere consent).
I have certainly been in situations where I’m too worked up to use good judgment. I suppose it’s debatable whether that means I can’t give consent, since judgment of a sort is possible, but giving consent in such a situation is a bad idea and I would appreciate a partner who would not honor it.
I feel as though some decisions I made in the past were made in a state of such confusion that the judgment I made had no bearing on what was going on. That’s a situation where I don’t think real consent is possible.
Sometimes you have to make decisions when consent is not possible. In my case, I applied to college without knowing anything about what I wanted to happen there. In some situations that’s the right thing to do; in some situations, any action is better than none. But I don’t think that’s a good way to handle personal relationships in general, nor sexual ones in particular.
I may have also experienced situations where my emotions were so confused that they didn’t allow meaningful judgment. Specifically, I have been drunk. (Thankfully I was indoors and had time to sober up.) I find it easy to imagine a situation where I’m not drunk enough that I don’t know what I want, but I’m too drunk to think ahead and decide how much I would like to do some activity.
It’s not an issue that threatens me, because I make a habit of avoiding making decisions when I’m impaired. But it could be an issue for some people. I’ve heard some people describe intense emotional states in the same language as drug experiences and I don’t think that’s entirely a metaphor.
I think you’re coming around to some of the reasons why feminists have started promoting “enthusiastic consent” rather than “mere consent”.
I feel uncomfortable with the idea (implied by your college example) that lack of long-term knowledge removes the ability to consent. I mean … in that case, can we ever consent? (It also reminds me of some of the questions that came up around that Israeli rape case a while back: http://lovebites.blogs.chicago.timeout.com/2010/07/24/arab-man-convicted-of-rape-by-deception/ )
I guess …. I do think that people sometimes do not actually know what they are thinking or feeling. When I get into this state I try to communicate that, like by saying “I’m not sure how I feel about that” or “I need to think about this more” or “Let’s try it, but I’m not promising anything”. It is hard to always be on top of it 100%, though, and I’ve definitely fucked up. I guess it is reasonable to say that consent might be difficult in such a situation. I think that generally, if a person is genuinely confused and not merely having trouble communicating, that person will not later claim not to have consented. I really believe that most of the time, when people feel that they did not consent to something, they really didn’t consent, it’s not that they were confused.
Some more thoughts on consent as a spectrum rather than a binary from Hugo Schwyzer, a blogger and professor of gender studies in California:
http://hugoschwyzer.net/2010/12/02/not-a-dichotomy-a-spectrum-on-rape-consent-and-desire/
In other words, I see questions around “consensual nonconsent” and other edge play as being primarily practical questions, not ethical questions. The ethics are simple: “Respect consent.” The practical question is the hard part: “How?”
To “respect consent” means to know whether or not your partner(s) give consent, and to stop whatever you’re doing when they stop.
So in order to respect consent, you have to know whether or not your partner is consenting. This is a communication problem, and it’s solved by communicating. Normally that means talking, but I’m willing to suppose that some people can use body language well enough for this purpose.
You need to be able to communicate about consent during the act, or else consent can’t really feasibly be respected. If you don’t have any way of knowing whether or not your partner’s still into it, there is no way to respect consent.
If you engage in a consensual non-consent relationship with a person whom you haven’t established any consent protocols with–whether that means a safeword, or a set of gestures, or a very detailed script that can be deviated from to indicate non-consent–then you’re left without any way to tell whether consent still exists.
If you don’t have any way to tell whether consent still exists, I don’t think the situation should really be called “consensual”. I imagine a lot of people go through those sorts of situations and enjoy it, just as a lot of people have sex while drunk, or underage, and don’t necessarily regret it. That doesn’t make it right.
(On a tangent: Is it just me, or do BDSM folk really enjoy using misleading terminology? “Consensual non-consent” sure sounds like an oxymoron. It also has a defined meaning, so I’m willing to use it for that meaning, but these conversations would be so much easier if it sounded like what it meant.)
I don’t think the first part is correct. Respect is an attitude, isn’t it? You can respect all human life without having met every human. I think “respecting consent” isn’t so much about knowing whether your partner consents or not, it’s about caring whether your partner consents or not. I think (well, arguably, know) it’s possible to do one without the other.
Though it’s true to say that someone who doesn’t stop whatever you’re doing when they know their partner doesn’t consent is someone who doesn’t respect consent, I’m reasonably certain it doesn’t work the other way around.
Nor can it really be called “nonconsensual.” That’s the thing about not knowing–you don’t know; Schrödinger’s cat isn’t provably dead.
Incidentally, by my very informal and unscientific survey, I calculate that it’s only for a very small percentage of sexual encounters that consent is explicitly negotiated. Are all the rest “not right?”
I don’t really get the urge to use the phrase “consensual non-consent” myself. On the other hand, I don’t engage in safeword-free scenes. I agree with Motley on the cat example, though … maybe that’s where the phrase came from.
Also, there are interesting tangents about consent here:
http://yesmeansyesblog.wordpress.com/2011/01/03/the-nonexistent-terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-consequences-of-enthusiastic-consent/#comment-4289
http://yesmeansyesblog.wordpress.com/2011/01/03/the-nonexistent-terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-consequences-of-enthusiastic-consent/#comment-4349
I get the word awkwardness thing. I mean as a Sadist, I don’t enjoy hurting people unless they enjoy being hurt. I know I’m following the letter of the definition – but I’m ripping the soul out of the intent. Using the same word to describe my kink and Ted Bundy’s pathology is clearly flawed.