hausboy -> RE: Subs with small, dysfunctional cocks. (4/14/2011 9:12:13 PM)
|
I know that this thread started with small cocks......and somehow has morphed into a discussion of community.... I felt a huge strong kinship to my leather community, much the way LadyPact does, I suspect. Once a week, I attended Leather/BDSM AA Meetings that often had 30-40 leatherfolk. We would all be in public--in leather--go to our 8pm meeting in the Castro on Friday nights--then we'd go to dinner together after, and on some nights, we'd have a play party later at a local dungeon. Play parties always had a social room where talking was permitted--it was a time to catch up with friends, have a few laughs--I worked most parties so it was rare that I didn't know almost everyone. Once a month, local leather clubs met for a business meeting and then a class/training---some went to a local leather bar after, the sober folks went to a local diner. It was often a great place to meet new folks, help them feel welcome, introduce them to etiquette, techniques etc. Lots of cruising too! :-) Many of us also played at private homes, served local Dommes, hung out with other leatherfolk at places where we all knew to find one another. Many of us worked on producing a leatherdyke magazine together--we all wrote porn, painted, drew, posed, took photos, etc. Most of us were known by our "leather names" as well as our given name, but the difference was there wasn't anonymity. We wore our identities on the sleeves of our jackets. No cell phones. No internet. No social network. My social network was an actual SOCIAL network. When one of us had a problem or a need, everyone pitched in and helped. When my Master was almost killed in an accident (sheesh--that's the third time I've brought her up this week--she must be on my mind--guess I should email her....) The response from the COMMUNITY was tremendous. Even people who didn't know her well, showed up to help. The wing of the hospital often looked like a cross between a biker rally and a titleholder event. One person retrieved what was left of her bike....another tried to repair it. Another donated time to piece together and sew back up the many pieces of her biker skins into a whole jacket again. (it was very symbolic) I donated my services to clean her apartment and run her errands. We had friends who held vigil at her bed--changing her dressings, watching her IVs, everything. every single day. Someone else made sure her bills got paid while she was in the hospital. Getting this yet? There was no "subs do this, dommes do that". It was: "one of our own is injured--everyone do their part." The nurses at the hospital remarked that when we first showed up--our leathers, tats, piercings--they didn't know what to think. They were a little scared...a little put off. Then they saw how we all came together to help one of our own--some who had never really known her well, yet here they were, offering whatever was needed. The one nurse said that she had never seen such fierce loyalty and love in a "family" like ours. My own mother compared my leather family to the Amish, believe it or not--when one of us needed help, we knew the Community was there for us. We had our hangouts.....our "lingo"....our little secret codes....our culture. It was a Community. For all those years, my life revolved around it. AIDS destroyed many of the clubs and dungeons-- I don't know what really put the nail in the coffin, but I swear, it seemed like the internet made this magical subculture so accessible, so into the daylight....that what was a Community, disappeared in a few short years. CollarMe doesn't feel like the Community I once had and knew, but then again, I fear those days are long gone. Gone the way of eye contact over coffee, dinner without the jarring annoyance of ringtones, and hand-written notes on crisp linen cards. Sorry for the long-winded post here, but the topic of leather/BDSM Community just makes me wax reminiscent.
|
|
|
|