Fruity, freaky or all of the above? Queerness, kink and power

Power affects all of us. Limiting us in life, cutting opportunities and risking our lives. But a different kind of power is one some people invite into their personal and sexual lives – power in kink. This power is consensual, invited in by participants rather than forced onto us. It can be a safe space, a point of connection and play. What makes kink appealing to queer people? 

As the trans pride walk rolled through Utrechtsestraat, I scurried to find a landmark or sign that I could identify to my friend, trying to find me in the crowd. In that moment, I was smacked in the face by a flag, blinding me for a second before revealing its colours. Nine stripes, four sets of blue and black separated by a white stripe. A red heart in the canton. After some confusion and embarrassment, I identified this as the leather/kink pride flag, which allowed my friend to locate me. 

For several decades, the kink community has been part of the LGBTQ+ umbrella, regardless of sexual orientation. Many of those in that parade also identify as kinky or interested in BDSM (Bondage, discipline, submission and sadomasochism). In fact, a disproportionate number of those who identify as kinky, also identify as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual or Transgender. Why is this the case, and what can it tell us about power?

Kink is a safe environment in which to express power. Even when acting out dominant-submissive dynamics, the power is handed over temporarily, rather than taken. 

Power, control and kink
Feeling limited in one’s life is a regular occurrence for LGBTQ+ people. Most of us experience discrimination in our everyday lives. This rises when we talk about LGBTQ+ people who are also disabled, of colour, or otherwise discriminated against. 

Decision or independence fatigue can be key components in the safety of giving up control in a dominant submissive dynamic – allowing a person to take a break and rest in a life that generally would not allow them to do so. This is especially true of 24/h dynamics, where control is granted to a dominant for long periods and day-to-day activities. 

Kink is a safe environment in which to express power. Even when acting out dominant-submissive dynamics, the power is handed over temporarily, rather than taken. This consent-based play means that it can be a safe space for people to exist in. 

As soon as any of the participants wants to stop, the interaction ceases. The power dynamic which was manufactured is removed from the situation. A stark contrast to everyday life, where LGBTQ+ people cannot escape the power being forced upon them. 

Systemic power is the problem
Power becomes a bogeyman which is exercised over us in all aspects of life no matter what we as queer people do. This can mean losing out on a job opportunity because of appearance, being catcalled or harassed on the street, followed by security at high-end stores or simply getting glances of disapproval wherever you go. Some of these encounters are plainly scary, and all are exhausting. 

This is especially true when it is done by close people in our lives – teachers, coworkers, family members or friends. In those scenarios, the power that is the default way to look or exist is used against us to shame us for who we are. 

Taking power that is so embedded into our lives and moulding it from our own will in a kink setting is a form of reclamation. Not to mention being exciting, comfortable and fun. 

For many, kink is not about sex – but about control, safety and trust. To be able to trust someone enough to give up control, or trust someone enough to control them is a paramount show of closeness and community, which is often not just pleasurable but also healing for those who participate.

Closeness and trust, exhibited like this, can also be a form of connection with the other participants. Much of kink can involve experimentation, which is a growth activity for those involved. Pushing boundaries, with mutual care and consent, is another way this occurs. 

For queer people, who often push beyond norms of being cisgender and heterosexual, this experimentation may in some ways mirror their journey with their identity. Kink is thus a frequent backdrop to many queer relationships, and by pushing against forms of sex and relationships, it overlaps with queerness itself, pushing boundaries together. 

However, power play is just one part of kink. There are other types of deviation from sexual norms, like fetish play or role play. 

Queerness and consent 
Consent culture also overlaps with queer culture. LGBTQ+ people are more likely to be politically progressive and practice verbal explicit consent. This consent is a foundation of kink. Queer people will then be more likely to have sex with the same foundation as kink, making it easier for those who want to venture into kink, whether as a part of sex or not. The phenomenon of concurrence tells us what is already intuitive: It is not power which hurts us, it is the fact that it is being forced upon us without our consent. Power in day-to-day life is not play (as it is in kink), it is a prison. Organising against hierarchy, empire and domination is a focus of many queer and kinky people. Yet even those who may not share kink as an interest in anti-power groups aren’t fighting against kink because they understand that the important part is fighting against the system that imprisons us, not the play that reclaims it.