Pervert. Heretic. Avant-Gardian. Forbidden Light makes it his mission to mix all things with sex and fetish. With the belief that "sex is a microcosm of the universe"; he tests his theories by making strange sexual juxtapositions. In his blog, Journals of an Intelsexual, he severely over-analyzes the basic and attempts to summarize the grandiose. Kink. Spirit. Headaches. Is there any more to life?
A Fetish for My Father's Curse
is words crawled across my skin, "What's the matter, Boy?"
My imagination colored his silent sentences with a southern accent, "You never seen big, white wood before?"
My blood boils as I continue to read, "I'd never let those black, field mitts anywhere near this good meat...but if there's one thing nigger lips are good for..."
I couldn't believe where my curiosity lead me this time...
Bitch. Slut. Pussy. It isn't uncommon for people to convert terms of degradation into dirty talk. Re-conceptualizing derogatory terms, we thrust ourselves into a state of hyper-sexuality. Meat. Stud. Beast. Giving in to these depictions of savage sexual beings, we give ourselves license to become mindlessly passionate. Thug. Nigga. Nigger? Too far? Believe it or not, there are black men and women who find being called a nigger, coon and other racial epithets erotic. More unbelievable than that, "race play" goes much deeper.
Humiliation. Shackles. Whippings. These elements are nothing new to the BDSM world, but it becomes especially jarring when given a racist twist. (At least, it does for me.) To indulge in their non-PC kink, men from all over come to Palm Springs, CA to participate in the "Plantation Retreat". Old fashioned slavery is recreated for white and black men alike to engage in homoerotic versions of slave auctions, forced labor and ownership. Black men return to being only 1/16th of their white counterparts and they love it. They're sexually excited by being owned as human property. They are turned on by the humbling experience of being inferior in every way... but one.
Ultimately, the slaves are bound under their own volition, under their own terms. Their experience goes only as deep as they have negotiated to go. A part of me is amazed. Have oppression become so far removed from our reality, that it can become fodder for fantasy? Is slavery such a distant memory, we can play with the scar tissue without opening old wounds? What's the difference between being aroused by hearing "Nigger" whispered in your ear and dancing to our favorite songs where "nigga" blares through the speaker?
I have too many questions...
Personally, this fetish hits too close to home. I can't imagine recreating a present reality and calling it "play". Let's face it, I doubt the white "masters" leave their superiority complexes at the retreat. When your fantasy is to purchase and trade me, is it possible to view me as an equal? Coming from these thick, full lips, can my words be heard objectively? Can you really call me a nigger and not mean it?
Forbidden Light wrote exclusively for ka-os|theory.
Visit Forbidden Light at Journals of an Intelsexual