Electronic Journal of Human Sexuality, Volume 17, July 5,
2014
D J Williams, PhD: Center for Positive Sexuality (Los
Angeles) and Idaho State University
Jeremy N. Thomas, PhD: Idaho State University
Emily E. Prior, MA: Center for Positive Sexuality (Los
Angeles) and College of the Canyons
M. Candace Christensen, PhD: University of Texas at San
Antonio
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Abstract
The BDSM (consensual sadomasochism) community has commonly
utilized Safe, Sane, and Consensual (SSC), or more recently Risk Aware
Consensual Kink (RACK) as basic frameworks to help structure the negotiation of
BDSM participation. While these approaches have been useful, particularly for
educating new participants concerning parameters of play, both approaches
appear to have significant practical and conceptual limitations. In this paper
we introduce an alternative framework for BDSM negotiation, Caring,
Communication, Consent, and Caution (4Cs), and discuss its potential
advantages.
Background and Introduction
From the time of Richard von Krafft-Ebing’s (1886/1978) text
Psychopathia Sexualis, BDSM has commonly been assumed to be motivated by an
underlying psychopathology. Although biases and misinterpretations among
professionals still remain (see Hoff & Sprott, 2009; Kolmes, Stock, &
Moser, 2007; Wright, 2009), researchers have consistently shown that BDSM
cannot be explained by psychopathology (i.e., Connelly, 2006; Cross &
Matheson, 2006; Powls & Davies, 2012; Richters, de Visser, Rissel, Grulich,
& Smith, 2008; Weinberg, 2006). Some scholars have recognized that not only
is BDSM participation not associated with psychopathology, but that it may be
associated with desirable psychological states that are often associated with
healthy leisure experience (Newmahr, 2010; Taylor & Ussher, 2001; Williams,
2006, 2009; Wismeijer & van Assen, 2013). Indeed, a widespread shift in
understanding seems to be occurring wherein consensual BDSM participation is
believed to be an acceptable expression of sexuality and/or leisure.
In light of this shift and in combination with the
development of community-based research as a methodological strategy across the
social sciences generally, an exciting recent development is the formal
collaboration between scholars and communities of people with alternative
sexual identities, including BDSM. The Community-Academic Consortium for
Research on Alternative Sexualities (CARAS) was formed in 2005 and combines the
knowledge and strengths of scholars and community members to produce
high-quality knowledge that can directly benefit the community (Sprott &
Bienvenu II, 2007). We welcome this development, and it is in the spirit of
mutual benefit that we write the present paper. In fact, we are both scholars
and also members of the BDSM community. Hopefully, our discussion here will
generate insights among both academics and nonacademics.
In this paper, we summarize the popular BDSM community
mottos of Safe, Sane, and Consensual (SSC) and Risk-Aware Consensual Kink
(RACK) before proposing what we think is an improved approach, which we call
the Caring, Communication, Consent, and Caution (4Cs) framework. Since each
framework explicitly includes the precise concept of consent, we will discuss a
few of the thorny issues surrounding the notion of consent within the 4Cs model
a little bit later in the paper, rather than in our summary of SSC and RACK. We
do this simply as a matter of retaining a consistent overall structure for
readers.
Acceptable BDSM, of course, is predicated on careful
negotiation among participants. Ortmann and Sprott (2013) reminded us that the
concept and practice of consent among participants is what differentiates BDSM
from abuse, and they added that “similar to the terms acquiescence and
permission, consent is the process by which approval or acceptance of what is
planned (often by another) is acceptable or agreeable” (p. 75). They also
discussed the development of SSC as a reaction to common beliefs that BDSM is
associated with pathology around sadism and masochism. Furthermore, Tuscott
(cited in Downing, 2007) suggested that the most frequent accusation toward
BDSM practitioners from outsiders is that such practitioners are violent. It is
important to note that explanations of violence are also primarily rooted in
popular social discourses of psychopathology. Thus, it is not surprising that
the starting point for negotiating BDSM possibilities has centered on
discussions of psychological stability, consent and safety, hence the birth of
SSC. SSC constructs have remained the focus of discussions concerning BDSM
negotiation for a long time (Henkin & Holiday, 1996; Miller & Devon,
1995; Taorimino, 2012; Wiseman, 1996). According to Henkin and Holiday (1996),
the “commandments” of healthy BDSM are being truthful while playing safely,
sanely, consensually, and non-exploitatively.
Despite the popularity of SSC, some BDSM practitioners
eventually began to realize that SSC may exclude edgier forms of play that
involve higher physical and/or psychological risk, which may be part of the
motivation for participation. Risk, of course, is relative and can vary
tremendously across individuals. While Danica Patrick or Jimmy Johnson can easily
handle driving a car at triple-digit speeds, most of the rest of us cannot do
so nearly as safely. Similarly, BDSM participants vary extensively in their
physical and psychological capacities and preferences. According to Downing
(2007), such a realization shifted a move from SSC to RACK, coined by Gary
Switch. Indeed, it is noteworthy that not only was the term safe replaced with
risk-aware, but that the term sane (or a similar term) was omitted. In BDSM
communities, the term sane seems to assume some standard of psychological
health. However, sane (versus insane) is technically a forensics designation,
rather than a psychological term, that is applied in assessing causality of a
severe mental disorder to the commission of a crime (see Roesch, Viljoen, &
Hui, 2003), thus its applicability to BDSM negotiation is of little practical
use.
Introducing the 4Cs Framework
While SSC and RACK focus on two shared, essential, concepts
(consent and safety/risk awareness), the 4Cs approach retains these general concepts
and adds the interrelated dimensions of caring and communication. Of course,
any BDSM negotiation framework, which can then be represented as a motto,
should be brief and easy for new participants to remember. Like SSC and RACK,
the 4Cs of caring, communication, consent, and caution are brief and very easy
to memorize. We now provide a brief overview of the 4Cs framework before
examining each component in more depth later in the paper. Because consent is
emphasized and commonly discussed in both SSC and RACK, we will not address it here
in the overview, but will devote some in-depth conversation to it as an
essential dimension of the 4Cs.
While there seem to be different levels and intensities of
caring that vary between people across their various social relationships, we
can commonly acknowledge a basic and inherent caring of people simply for being
fellow human beings. Indeed, (alternative) communities often form because of a
basic caring, personal identification with, and place to support its members.
The inclusion of caring in a BDSM negotiation motto reflects
an ethical stance while acknowledging individuals as unique human beings. The
form of caring (i.e., level of trust and intimacy of relationships among
participants in a scene) also shapes the qualitative experiences of BDSM.
Communication, while often rightly discussed by BDSM authors under consent, is
also strongly connected to caring and caution. Although presented separately,
these concepts in BDSM are all tightly interwoven. Emphasizing communication
should lead to a better understanding among participants regarding individuals’
unique identities, needs, and motivations, and thus more fulfilling BDSM
experiences. In short, communication as its own entity allows for participants to
better understand the subjective realities of those with whom they play.
The reframing of safety/risk awareness to caution appears to
be somewhat subtle, but perhaps carries less discursive baggage. We think that
this possibility is important because it may be more inclusive of people who
embrace a broader range of social discourses concerning how they utilize
different forms of knowledge. Currently, we have observed that many BDSM
participants seem to defer, knowingly or not, to somewhat strict medical discourses
concerning discussions of risk and safety. In this sense, RACK seems preferable
to SSC, yet we still realize that SSC has become more restrictive and perhaps
codified than was originally intended (see Downing, 2007). We agree with
Ortmann and Sprott (2013) that specific BDSM activities may not necessarily be
commonly perceived to be safe, yet people may be aware of the risks and
consensually engage in such activities. However, the word risk remains somewhat
situated within powerful restrictive discourses of medicine and public health,
whereas caution seems to be broader, still relevant, yet it is perhaps less
embedded in such discourses. We are by no means advocating that BDSM
participants simplistically discard important medical knowledge. Such knowledge
should be appreciated and carefully considered side-by-side with a variety of
other discourses and perspectives.
Our preference of the word caution is an acknowledgement of
longstanding politics concerning bodies and sexuality (Foucault, 1977, 1978),
and allows for a wide range of meanings and motivations for engaging in various
possible forms of BDSM. At the same time, people who espouse a positivist
epistemological perspective can certainly interpret “caution” from medical and
scientific discourses. The point here is not simply one of changing words, but
to create more discursive space to allow for differing epistemological
perspectives. Given this overview, we will now further discuss each component
of the 4Cs and the underlying importance of each for consideration in a BDSM
negotiation framework.
Taking a Closer Look at Each Dimension
Because consent is essential in SSC, RACK, and the 4Cs, we
will focus on it first in this section. We will then move to explorations of
communication, caring, and caution.
Consent
The notion of consent has almost always been a core
consideration at the heart of both popular (e.g., Miller & Devon, 1995;
Taorimino, 2012; Wiseman, 1996) and more academic discussions of BDSM (e.g,
Baldwin 2003; Langdridge & Barker, 2007; Weiss, 2011). Whether utilized as
a kind of defense of BDSM or whether simply being beat into the heads (or
preferably other body parts) of newbie practitioners, consent has often been
thought of as a key element that distinguishes BDSM from violence and other
types of abuse (Newmahr, 2011; Ortmann & Sprott, 2013). Yet, in spite of
this central role of consent—a role that is clearly articulated within the
acronyms of both SSC as well as RACK—we suggest that the notion of consent
suffers from considerable ambiguity and deserves some much-needed clarity.
Although others have certainly pointed out some of these same ambiguities
(e.g., Barker, 2013; Newmahr, 2011; Tsaros, 2013), we propose that as part of
our new acronym of the 4Cs, the BDSM community would do well to strive for a
more sophisticated and nuanced understanding of consent.
The problem as we see it, is that when many people talk
about consent, they do it so flippantly and easily that it obscures the
complications implicit to the notion. This is especially the case in the
vanilla world, where, for example, much of the advocacy surrounding sexual
violence prevention regularly proclaims simplistic slogans such as “no means
no” and “yes means yes.” Corresponding to this, and seemingly impeding any
further conversation, it seems like there is an almost immediate pushback
against anyone who dares to question the supposedly-obvious nature of the
distinction between yes and no. One has only to look as far as popular music
and Robin Thicke’s recent hit single, “Blurred Lines,” and the repetition of
its controversial chorus, “I know you want it.” The popular backlash was quick
and unwavering in its portrayal of this song as epitomizing an
assumedly-ubiquitous “rape culture.”
We suggest, however, that one of the complications here is
that while perhaps it might be helpful if people said exactly what they
wanted—if they were direct, clear, and obvious all the time and in every
way—this is just not the nature of reality. While frequent and direct
communication is desired, there is always more that is left unsaid. This is
especially the case with BDSM, where much of the eroticism and allure of BDSM
hinges on blatantly playing with and often purposefully obscuring consent.
Whether that’s the explicit specifications of consensual non-consent, or
whether it’s the use of even the most minimal type of bondage, or whether it’s
merely the top telling the bottom what to do—in all of these scenarios, BDSM is
clearly blanketed in the trappings of non-consent. Experienced BDSM
practitioners know this, and they know that navigating this tricky edge of
consent is the balancing act that brings BDSM alive.
Yet, that being said, we recognize that most BDSM
practitioners have little interest in their consent actually being violated.
But this, of course, raises all kinds of questions regarding what exactly is
consent and how do I know if my consent has been violated? For example, is
consent a verbal agreement? Is it a body posture? A knowing look? A written out
contract? In response, then, to these kinds of ambiguities, we suggest that one
of the ways to move beyond such questions is to take a step back from the
mechanics of consent and instead consider a broader approach. In particular, we
propose that BDSM practitioners—both new and experienced alike—might benefit
from learning to conceptualize consent according to three distinct levels.
The first of these is what we might call surface consent. In
many ways, surface consent mirrors the kind of consent that is exemplified in
the phrases “no means no” and “yes means yes.” When you are at a play party and
someone asks you whether you would be interested in participating in some kind
of scene, you might answer according to this kind of surface consent: “yes, I’m
interested” or “no, I’m not.”
A second level of consent and probably the level that is
most often associated with BDSM might be called scene consent. Here consent
entails the top and bottom discussing and negotiating what is going to occur in
the scene, and especially how the bottom might communicate to the top that he
or she is (in the middle of the scene) withdrawing consent, typically through
the use of some kind of safeword or gesture. Something to be aware of here,
however, is that even though these techniques of consent may be relatively
straightforward and clear, the fact that these kinds of obfuscating mechanics
are used at all continues to point to the reality that BDSM largely operates on
the basis of “blurred lines.”
This, in turn, takes us to a third and even more ambiguous
level of consent, what we might call deep consent. Here we are talking about something
beyond just a bottom’s ability to use a safeword or gesture. For instance, when
a bottom is crying and sobbing and in obvious distress and perhaps full into
some kind of subspace—but hasn’t yet called “red”—we might wonder to what
extent the scene is affecting the thinking of the bottom and affecting the
bottom’s mental capacity to yell out “red” or to engage in cognitive consent at
all? In addition, even if the bottom is still able to think, the bottom may not
actually know whether he or she is consenting. In such cases, it seems like the
question of consent is something that almost has to be considered after the
fact. As the bottom plays back the scene in the hours and days and weeks that
follow, he or she might come to some kind of conclusion: “I consented” or “no I
didn’t” or perhaps “I guess I just don’t know.” In addition, it is important to
be aware that aftercare and later conversations (especially between the top and
bottom) may actually change the bottom’s interpretation of a scene and his or
her consequent view of consent.
Thus, while acknowledging that more sophisticated
philosophical analyses of consent could certainly be provided, we suggest that
the basic takeaway here is for BDSM practitioners to recognize and be cognizant
of the fact that consent is a messy business. This, of course, is not at all to
downplay the significance or importance of consent, or to make light of the
potential emotional and psychic costs of having one’s consent violated. Indeed,
just as in every relationship people get hurt from time to time, we suspect
that there are few BDSM practitioners among us who have not on occasion had our
consent violated at least in part. That being said, some of us play on the safe
side of consent, and some of us like to dangle over the cliff. Some of us go so
far as to secretly long for our consent to be violated mid-scene in the hope
that our retrospective analysis will lead us to conclude that at some deeper
and more meaningful level, we really did consent. These—for better or worse—are
the ambiguities of consent. Instead of denying these ambiguities, we recommend
that BDSM practitioners embrace them, talk about them, negotiate with them, and
continually and constantly reassess.
Communication
BDSM participants realize the obvious importance of good
communication in negotiating personal limits within scenes. Scott (1997)
discussed how people have different types of limits, and these limits may
change depending on variables like time, current situation and mood, exposure
to activities, who they are playing with, and so forth. Communication is
important before, during, and after a scene. Such communication is inextricably
linked to the concepts of caring, consent and caution, thus it deserves to be
included in a basic framework of negotiation.
Many scholars have found that good communication is one of
the most important factors for having a positive BDSM relationship (Cutler,
2003; Williams, 2012). Cutler (2003) interviewed 33 individuals that were
actively participating in BDSM leisure practices and 19 of the 33 individuals
identified communication as the number one most important skill for having a
“good” BDSM relationship. Cutler said that his participants asserted that the
need for good communication is more significant in BDSM practices (compared to
“vanilla” practices) to prevent unintended physical or emotional harm. These
individuals valued clarity and transparency in all BDSM exchanges. An important
tenet of BDSM practice is to mutually create a power exchange. It is essential
for all practitioners involved to communicate about the structures and
processes involved in this exchange so that BDSM experience is mutually
pleasurable and safe (Kleinplatz & Moser, 2006).
Because there is no unifying theory in understanding BDSM
and people can vary tremendously in their overall physiologies, psychological
make-up, past experiences, spirituality, erotic preferences, and motivations
for participation; thorough communication contributes to a fuller understanding
of participants, their subjective realities, and how to express care and
support. Communication facilitates a richer personal knowledge, caring and
intimacy, which then allows participants to explore, if they like, edgier forms
of play that may complicate consent. Communication, then, is an essential
bridge between caring and caution, which potentially may lead to the deep
consent that we described above.
Caring
Sexuality is a complex, holistic, multi-layered phenomenon
that permeates all aspects of a person’s existence. We believe that engaging an
ethic of care (caring attitudes and behaviors) is beneficial for understanding
and enjoying sexuality and BDSM practices. Utilizing an ethic of care when we
are intent on exploring, engaging, or understanding sexuality creates safety,
trust, and respect for our partners (Orme, 2002; Parton, 2003). This practice
also conveys a level of competence that affirms the individual expressions
and/or cultural mores of the people with which a person interacts (Vikan,
Camino, & Biaggio, 2005).
Feminist scholars developed the philosophy and practice of
an ethic of care in response to a patriarchal/positivist view of morality and
justice (Beecher & Stowe, 1971; Buhle & Buhle, 1978; Gilligan, 1982;
Wollstonecraft, 1988). Western thought has historically posited that justice
and morality should be grounded in observable, empirical truths that are
applicable to all people, places, and things (Buhle & Buhle, 1978;
Gilligan, 1982; Wollstonecraft, 1988). A morally evolved individual is
self-reliant, independent, and able to make moral judgment devoid of emotional
persuasion (Kohlberg, 1971). An ethic of care asserts that morality is a
subjective, relational way of making decisions (Gilligan, 1982). Decisions based
upon an ethic of care explore the interpersonal and communal ramifications of a
decision, rather than how the decision would impact “objective” understandings
of justice.
Feminist scholars (Jaggar, 1992; Tong, 2013; Vikan, Camino,
& Biaggio, 2005) assert that an ethic of care is a grounded in the belief
systems of many people, of all genders, throughout the world. Seeing the world
through the lens of an ethic of care brings diverse voices and perspectives
into the decision-making processes. “A dialogical approach to moral problems
would involve discussing and observing from an attitude of caring – that
includes attentiveness, responsibility, responsiveness, and a commitment to see
issues from different perspectives” (Orme, 2002, p. 810). Conveying empathy, consent,
and responsiveness when we negotiate, plan, or practice our sexuality are a few
of the attitudes connected with an ethic of care.
In alignment with an ethic of care, philosophers and social
scientists have developed the concept of intersubjectivity (Benjamin, 2013;
Gillespie & Cornish, 2010). Scholars have created multiple definitions of
the term: a) an agreed upon definition created by individuals in a given
situation; b) a community created definition that is reinforced through
attitudes and behaviors that the community can use to understand a given
phenomenon; c) a shared feeling or thought experienced by one person that
influences the experiences of others, for example, a shared feeling of care and
affection influences that feeling for others (Benjamin, 1995; 2013; Gillespie
& Cornish, 2010).
An intersubjective perspective embraces the belief that all
individuals have unique lived experiences and as a result, unique
understandings about given phenomena, for example, sexuality and BDSM activity.
“Broadly speaking, we take intersubjectivity to refer to the variety of
possible relations between people’s perspectives” (Gillespie & Cornish,
2010, p. 19). Intersubjectivity asserts that individual understandings are
fluid, relational, and ever-changing depending upon the context in which a
phenomenon is experienced. This point of view is in contrast to positivist
(objective) definition about social phenomenon, which asserts that scientific
knowledge can only be derived from rigorous experiments that can be verified
and replicated (Ponterotto, 2005). By contrast, intersubjectivity states that
every individual embodies unique experiences, abilities, and identities, thus
it is impossible to distill all possible understandings into an objective
truth. Intersubjectivity requires us to reflect upon our individual beliefs
about sexuality, communicate our beliefs, and embrace every person’s unique
understandings.
Embracing our multiple understandings is in tandem with
using an ethic of care within sexuality practices (Allegranti, 2013; Benjamin,
2013). If all individuals have unique desires and concerns, it takes great care
to honor the diverse wishes and needs of others with the same importance we
give our own. Finding the intersection between our sexual desires and another’s
sexual desires can create tension because we are not sure how to judge,
prioritize, and connect another person’s desires with our own. Utilizing an
ethic of care allows us to honor the other as having an equivalent sexual life.
Practitioners, educators, and scholars that wish to embrace
intersubjectivity and an ethic of care in how they navigate sexuality in their
professional lives can do so through several practices (Brown, 2011). Engage in
self-awareness exercises regarding your sexuality and BDSM preferences. Define
your own sexual values and behaviors and within this definition, and explore
any biases, prejudices, or potential discriminations you might have regarding
sexual practices with which you are unfamiliar. Realize that sexuality and BDSM
are social constructs on which cultural values and attitudes have been placed,
which can deem some behaviors as acceptable and others as deviant. Allow the
people with whom you interact to describe their own definition of “good” BDSM,
and remain conscious that it is acceptable to have multiple definitions of
“good” BDSM experiences. If someone discloses to you that she or he engages in
edgier or unconventional BDSM practices, allow this person to explain her or
his values and attitudes about why these practices are personally enjoyable. Be
sure to listen with a caring attitude, try to understand how these practices
fit within the person’s larger subjective reality, convey responsiveness, and
allow multiple sets of values and beliefs to coexist.
CAUTION
For us, caution is tightly interconnected with caring,
communication, and consent. For example, the willingness to engage in edgier
BDSM activities often reflects an understanding, caring, and respect of the
identities and intersubjective realities of those who may also participate.
Thorough communication is an essential part of that process, not to mention an
understanding of what exactly will take place in a particular scene.
As we suggested earlier, we like the term caution in large
part because it implies a need to be aware of risk, the possibility of danger,
and an admonition to proceed carefully; yet it does not seem to be quite as
attached to normalizing medical and psychiatric discourses to the same degree
as safe, or risk. For some, this may be trivial, but for others it may offer a
better fit within their preferred lexicon. Acknowledging the historical
regulatory power over bodies by the institutions of religion and medicine and
psychiatry as explained by Foucault (1977, 1978) and subsequent postmodern and
poststructural theorists, some participants may enjoy certain forms of BDSM as
resistance to, or freedom from, such discourses. Perhaps other participants,
for their own reasons, may follow various other macro or micro narratives.
It is important that a BDSM negotiation framework allows for
personal variation and potential change that is an inherent part of people’s
dynamic intersubjective realities. Baber and Murray (2001) discuss the
importance of recognizing personal sexual scripts that develop from unique
experiences, knowledge and education, and exposure to events. These scripts
seem to be fluid and changing, and personal sexual scripts that include BDSM as
an important theme undoubtedly impact desires for specific BDSM activities of
various levels of risk. These personal scripts would also seem to help motivate
participants to develop the skills to navigate risk to the degree to which they
are comfortable. Our main point here is that risk and safety levels for
specific BDSM activities; along with participants’ motivations, interpretations
and subjective meanings; vary tremendously not only across participants, but
also may shift substantially within individual participants. Whether safe,
risk-aware, or caution is used to reflect this dimension of negotiation, we
should be attuned to the need to accommodate considerable flexibility and
variation.
CONCLUSION
In this paper, we have discussed important contextual issues
for the development of SSC and RACK as basic frameworks for BDSM negotiation.
While SSC has been, and still is, a useful approach for those wanting to
participate in BDSM activities, RACK was formed in response to the recognition
of a few problematic aspects of SSC, specifically the realization that BDSM
participants’ motivations for specific activities can vary considerably and
that risk is relative among participants. At the same time, sane, as a
forensics technical term, has little actual relevance to BDSM activity. We can
understand the preference of RACK over SSC for many BDSM community members.
Despite the helpfulness of both SSC and RACK, we see some
advantages in a new BDSM negotiation framework, which we have labeled the 4Cs.
Each dimension (caring, communication, consent, and caution) warrants separate
identification and emphasis, yet these constructs are all necessarily
interwoven. The 4Cs framework is easy to remember and it moves beyond SSC and
RACK in acknowledging the diverse ways of knowing, expressing, and relating. It
provides an important negotiation structure, yet also seems to allow, and
perhaps promote to some degree, flexibility for BDSM participants.
Finally, an additional valuable advantage of this new
framework is that the 4Cs directly counters, via the inclusion of the
dimensions of caring and communication (in addition to consent), lingering
misperceptions from outsiders that BDSM participation is somehow inherently
abusive, violent, or rooted in psychopathology, which directly contributed to
the development of a common negotiation framework in the first place (SSC). The
4Cs, as a whole, emphasizes that BDSM participation is, or at least should be,
quite the contrary. Despite progress in recent years in reducing
marginalization of BDSM participation, much more improvement is needed.
Contact Information: Dr. D J Williams:
Department of Sociology
Idaho State University
Campus Box 8114
Pocatello, ID 83209-8114
Email: willdj@isu.edu
LINK TO ORIGINAL RESOURCE
WEB: www.sinfulandwicked.co.uk MOB: 07426 490 214 TWITTER: @sinfulandwicked
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