Hey Daddy: Walking Between Worlds

May 25, 2010 at 12:07 am (Walking Between Worlds) (, , , , )

As relationships grow and evolve, it is fairly normal [and often healthy] for there to be moments of discussion about the relationship—the need arises to reflect, to process, to seek greater understanding and closeness. Recently, Scin and I had one such conversation. It is a discussion we have revisited because it is an important one. The topic reflects significant foundational aspects of the connection between us, the love we share, our respect for and understanding of each other, and some fundamental underpinnings in our sexual interactions. There had been an interaction developing in our sex life in small waves and ripples which became one giant wave in one particular evening. What occurred between us was an exchange that many people would refer to as Daddy–Little Girl role playing.

Except, it isn’t really. This, in fact, was the point of the discussion.  We had observed that what was occurring between us was not the classic Little Girl–Daddy exchange we read about all over the blogsphere. We knew what it was not. We needed a better understanding of what it was. Especially since, for both of us, it was—and is—highly erotic and…well…hot.

And, especially, since we had discussed and were clear about my discomfort with many of the exchanges we read about so often. I have always been uncomfortable with anything that smacks of age play or that even comes near a mimicry of pedophilic power-over and sublimation.  Much of my discomfort comes out of my experiences in the fifteen years I spent as a therapist treating the people no one else wanted to treat—the indigent, broken beyond broken, forgotten of our society. Another factor is the nebulous, not fully formed memories from my own childhood. I do not judge others or judge what works for them; but, I respect my own comfort zones as much as I respect the space and predilections of others. So does Scin. Thus, when things like “you are such a good girl” or, “daddy is so pleased with you…” began to fall out of my mouth and produced the responses both of us experienced, it was something we felt we should talk about and explore.  There are a few dynamics we discovered as we talked.

Firstly, it is important to put the exchange in its proper context: that being, there is no context really. What happens in both our verbal exchange and our sexual posturing is not role playing. There is no creation of a scene. There is no adoption of a particular persona for the sake of sex play. It is an organic expression of our personalities and the intimacies of our relationship that seem to simply occur between us—naturally, without any real forethought or confabulation. The sexual dynamic seems also to be a kind of extension of our natural playfulness—as in: to be full of play; pleasantly humorous or jesting. We play. We jest. She calls me “baby boi.”  I call her “baby girl.” These are terms of endearment that fit our personalities and identities. So, that said, there is a particular factor that has significant impact on our sexual expression. 

The primary factor is that I am finally in a place where my two-spiritedness is not only understood but fully accepted. I have never felt quite like a girl. Never. I was never comfortable around other girls. I understood them not at all. They made me nervous and I never felt like one of them. I understood boys. I felt at home with them. And, once out of sight of my mother, I would take off my shirt, hang it out of my back pocket and run around playing with the guys. I preferred them to girls—except I liked to look at girls. A lot. In some strange way, I always felt as if I was a boy, but that I wasn’t grown up yet. I knew there were differences between myself and boys. I knew I had parts like other girls. But in some place in my mind, it felt like I just had not finished growing yet. I was dismayed and nearly destroyed when I started having periods. I felt as if something were dreadfully wrong—and it was my fault somehow; I had in some way failed to make a proper decision to develop as a boy; I had failed to get it right. As if there were a choice. I am, by traditional social standards, a woman with intense male energy. I greet the world and people in it with a sort of masculine spiritual demeanor. People unconsciously respond to me as if I am male. I confuse straight women. They respond to me as they would a male and it throws them off. Men respond to me as one of the guys. And, yet… 

I am also possessive of traits that are seen as traditionally feminine. I am highly nurturing, gentle in general, fairly compassionate—and passionate, about a lot of things—and capable of a great loving kindness. But, I am prone to be aggressively protective. I am also very practical, linear, rational and mechanically inclined. When I was tested, I was almost equilaterally right-to-left brain oriented. So, what do you get when you put all of this into a very androgynous body packed full of male energy? You get a daddy. 

And, Scin is very much a woman who responds to this kind of male presence. She is, in many ways, a daddy’s girl—a fully grown woman who, beneath all her self-assuredness and independence, wants to be cared for, fawned over a little, and wants to please and be accepted. The girl in her loves to laugh, play, engage in silliness, dance and sing. She is also very much a grown woman. She is filled with a sexuality that is confident, powerful, sensual and unselfconscious. She is mature, competent, professional, and a wonderful mother to her son. She has a strong sense of self and is kind and nurturing. She is also strong-minded, willful at times, and is used to taking care of things—used to having to compensate for not getting the kind of caring, nurturing acceptance and support she needed. And, it is not easy for her to be submissive. It never has been. She is a marvelous blending of aspects. These qualities create the main factor that responds so strongly to the daddy traits she sees in me.

In all of this, she and I both are lesbian to highest degree. We express a butch–femme dynamic not because of some philosophy, but because it is simply who we are. It is the blending of energies in me that she has always responded to—that and the fact that I accept them in myself, embrace them, and have learned to live in and enjoy my female body.  For me, the eroticism does not come from a place of desiring a little girl and wanting to sexualize her. Rather, it is something much more powerful and significant. I do not see her as a girl. I see, all at once, all the aspects of her girl-like self manifested in the personhood of this sexually powerful woman. In many women, the little girl is hard to find; she is long gone, murdered by her experiences. Scin wears both her girlhood and her womanhood as she does all things: out loud and proud. It is hot indeed. And, I say to her: show daddy what a big girl you have become.

And she shows me. It is everything good and pure and naughty and nasty. It is edgy and profoundly intimate. And, it is so largely because there is no assumption of false roles. We are simply being who we actually are. Relating to each other as equals who understand and accept each other.  There is something highly erotic about being fully seen and understood. There is something intensely sensual about being loved. That bareness is stimulating indeed. But, there is more.

There is trust. The trust it requires for her to feel a desire to give herself over to me, to release all control and allow me complete access to her, is indeed a powerful force. That she can be so vulnerable—something she does not do easily—and know she is completely safe is highly erotic for her. And, for me. For me, it is the blending of all these attributes that is so sexually charged—the innocence of trust, the child-like openness to be cared for, to be loved, in perfect balance with a mature, confident sexuality. See, this is a big part of it. The safety in the vulnerability. The act of choosing to be fully open and present with your lover, your mate. She knows I will never harm her, that I will nurture her and lift her up even as I penetrate and explore her. Likewise, I know I am fully safe with her. The old no-fly zones are gone. This mutuality of trust and openness is at the core of the submissiveness and dominance that moves within our sexuality. It is not role playing. It is not contrived. It is fluid. 

We move easily and effortlessly between the relinquishing of control and the expression of it. In either case, it is just that—it is an expression of control rather than a use of it. It is both instinctive and conscious. We do this from a place of deep and abiding love for each other. Yet, the energy, the dynamic itself, does not change. Mine is still a highly masculine energy that submits to her when she calls me “boi” and tells me what she wants. She is still the same woman, girlish in all the best ways, who opens her legs and herself to me when I ask her to do so. What occurs between us is not a role playing of any kind. No matter who is doing what to whom, it is an expression of energies, a fluid and organic movement of trust, desire and love, into sexual acts of endearment. When I call her baby girl, she answers because she knows it is one way I express my love and acceptance of her. And, when she says “hey daddy,” I answer not because it is play time, but because it is part of who I am. 

NOTE:  This work is published here as proprietary and may not be reproduced, distributed, sold, or otherwise utilized outside the posting on this site without the express permission of the author; these works are the sole property of the author writing as Androgynonamous or DreadPirateRobert.

 

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Walking Between Worlds

March 8, 2010 at 11:38 pm (Walking Between Worlds) (, , , )

Making Choices:

Recently, I had a sort of heavy conversation with a dear, long-time friend.  He was talking with me about things that he can discuss only with me–namely the loneliness and frustrations he experiences due to the choices he made. Many years ago, because he wanted a child and wanted to settle down some of his wilder tendencies, he chose to marry.  He has lived as if he were heterosexual for many years.  As many of us know, it is very difficult to live in a way that denies who you really are, inside, in the middle of the essence of yourself.  There may, often, be rewards in a life partly lived, but there are always areas left wanting.  This was the point of our discussion:  how hard it is at times, despite the relative comfort and familiarity of it all, to deny a whole facet of himself daily, to live without the kind of intimacy, emotional and sexual fulfillment, and kinship that can be had by being true to who he is. 

I understand and respect his choices.  I am happy to be here for him when he needs to talk.  I hurt for him when he feels the strength of his longing to be himself.  I also admire him.  He is a principled man; he is, like many of us, old school in regard to things like integrity, honor, commitment, and keeping his promises.  He is a man of faith.  He loves his wife.  So, do I.  Still, I wish things could be different for him–for both of them.  We are in the South.  Things are different here; communities are small.  He does not have some of the options he might have elsewhere.  I know people who, similarly, have chosen to be celibate rather than face the issues related to their orientation.  Some are even living with their partners in celibate relationships.  These are their choices. 

There are many ways to be in the world.  There are many ways to process the factors of enculturation, religion, and the vast range of psychosocial influences that help shape us.

I grew up with many of the same influences, enculturations, and internalized issues as did the people I know.  But, I was–thankfully–stubborn.  Before I elaborate, let me first say, I have wonderful parents.  They were, however, products of their generations as well.  When they discovered that I was not dating the guys I hung out with and that I was, in fact, having sex with girls, they tried to intervene.  At one point, they even sent me to a Christian counselor in an effort to get me [literally] straightened out.  It did not work.  I would sit there in total silence.  The man would nearly beg me to talk and state his case:  that he could not help me if I did not let him.  I would advise him that, while I had issues, they were not what he thought they were, that I was fine with my orientation and did not need his help.  This was followed with:  “even if it risks your soul?”  My response:  “Yes.”

Somehow, I knew even then, in the core of me, that there were many ways to be a person and to be a child of God as well.  The theology of the common perspective never made sense to me and I refused to buy into it–even if it meant I might be wrong and would go to hell.  I began the long journey of working out the issues of identity, faith, theology, personhood and the ways that all of these relate to our becoming, to actualizing ourselves.  Within a few years of the various interventions, my parents had the sense to see that what they were doing was not working and ended up talking to professionals who helped them find answers.  They learned about human sexuality, about predisposing factors and human development.  They came to not only accept me, but to understand me and support me.  Many people I know and have known were not so lucky.  

It was, however, a long road for all of us.  I think the thing that, most clearly, saved me from worse roads than the ones I did take was that I was stubbornly sure of who I was and I refused to be moved on the issue.  I believed, in some instinctive way that was later more fully formed, that I was as I was meant to be:  that I was simply who I was disposed to be with flaws and worthwhile attributes like everyone else.  No more, no less.  I was not going to try to be someone else to make everyone else happy.  In addition, I had enough other serious things to deal with and work out that I made a choice to cling to the life raft of my sense of self–even if it was going under. 

I am very grateful that I had held my own in the face of forces and factors that tried to change me and alter my identity.  I would never have been happy had I succumbed to those forces.  My daily choice to be who I am, as well as to own and take responsibility for what is true for me, have produced some hard outcomes.  But, thankfully, most of them have been mine to suffer.  The ripples have been small.  I continue to strive to do no harm to others, at least.  And, the difficult results of my choices have brought meaningful lessons.  Some, honestly, I would rather not have learned at the time, but appreciate them now.  But choices bear outcomes.  It is part of making them.

The other side of the choice coin on this issue is one we know:  that silence makes it harder on those of us who do come out and who own who we are.  However, choices are personal and belong to the maker of them–even if the outcome affects others.  It is never the place of one person to choose for another.  Many of us remember the lives ruined during the awful era of self-righteous people outing others.  Where silence makes it hard on those of us who are out, choosing to live as other than who we are makes a bigger statement to the ignorant and simple-minded:  that sexual orientation is a choice, not an orientation.  Further, it suggests that it can successfully be changed. 

What is fascinating to me about this belief in the minds of the common person is that it misses the primary point altogether while attempting to use it.  The issue is not whether or not an orientation is a choice, it is that the choice is about whether to act upon who we are or not.  Often, the people who recognize this little fact still don’t seem to get it.  They act as if the choice is a simple thing like whether to have a burger or a hotdog for lunch.  The point of choice is whether to choose to be happy, to seek fulfillment and wholeness, or to deny entire aspects of who you are.  From this perspective, we can then acknowledge that heterosexuals choose to be heterosexual every day.  To say “I could never be with someone of my own gender,” is to choose a sexual identity.  This is perfectly acceptable.  It is as it should be.  All humans have the right to self-determination and the seeking of happiness.  But, for many people still, when we choose to own and act upon our natural orientation, we are held accountable in a very different way.  We are expected to correct ourselves.  For many unaccepting people, it is as if the right to seek real happiness is a right God-given only to heterosexuals.  Things have gotten better, but we still have a long way to go.  Those of us who choose to be openly who we are can hope that it does make it easier on those who come after us.

Being who we are–in any way–takes a willingness to be open to observation, examination, and possible disapproval.  The more different our personhood may be, the greater the risks.  I understand why people choose not to walk a path that will put themselves out there for the world to see and interpret.  I support the choices of those I love to walk in the world as they see fit.  We all make the best choices we can at any given time, about any given issue.  It is nice when people accept the choices I make to be true to myself.  It is, sometimes, difficult when they don’t.  Those are difficulties I am willing to suffer.  I cannot imagine anything worse–for me–than the kind of aloneness and emptiness that denying who I am would bring.  I hurt for my friend when he hurts.  But, I am also grateful that I feel able to choose to be who I am, love who I love and move in the world the best way I can having made that choice.

NOTE:  This work is published here as proprietary and may not be reproduced, distributed, sold, or otherwise utilized outside the posting on this site without the express permission of the author; these works are the sole property of the author writing as Androgynonamous or DreadPirateRobert.

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