After rushing across town from the office, I may have supper with my boyfriend in a rather fancy restaurant, or the local family-run Italian. We’ll engage in vibrant conversation; lively debate over a subpar comedy we watched the night previously or concerned reflection on the latest traumatic world event. After having our fill, we’ll split the bill. Then, he’ll take me home, chain the leather collar padlocked around my neck to the coffee table and flog my bare arse raw. For we are a functioning, happy, couple in a BDSM relationship, and I am a feminist.

BDSM is a catch-all term for whole host of sexual kinks and fetishes, but is largely defined by bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadism and masochism. Activities vary enormously; from a bit of light spanking from time to time to a 24/7 D/s relationship incorporating a total power exchange, it all falls under the spectrum. And feminism? Well, we should know what that is by now. But the thing is, it seems there’s a presumed conflict between sexual inclination toward the BDSM scene and upholding feminist values. It’s seen as contradictory, hypocritical, downright disrespectful to other women to breathlessly enjoy a man assert power and control over you and administer pain and punishment. I’m here to tell you that while it can, initially, be hard to reconcile the two, there is nothing anti-feminist about making the choice to participate in a healthy, safe, and somewhat alternative sex life.

The distinction between one’s real life and one’s sex life plays a huge part in the relationship between BDSM and feminism, and it’s far from clean-cut. Now, the bedroom does not exist in a vacuum. The door to your boudoir (I would hazard a guess) does not hermetically seal itself on your admittance. Perhaps unfortunately, but indeed helplessly, the deep rooted societal norms we live among pervade and influence our every action, every flight and fancy, every psychological move we make/breath we take/bond we break/etc. The power of living in a patriarchal society such as ours is so consuming I feel it’s dismissive to suggest that our sexual activity can exist in an entirely separate world.

It may come as a surprise that I’m following this line for the moment. The ‘lady in the streets but a freak in the bed’ mentality seems to have been appealed to in order to get women off the hook in a lot of literature around the subject of women with unconventional kinks and fetishes. I have an issue with this, for the simple reason that there is no hook on which we hang. It is strange and often difficult to come to terms with the fact that you enjoy behaving in sexual encounters in a way you entirely wouldn’t in non-sexual situations. It does feel that there could be outside reasons and influences that explain why you’re interested in these kinks that you’re otherwise fighting against. But it doesn’t matter. It’s vitally important to remember that if you’re engaging in safe, consensual sexual relations that make you feel fulfilled and satisfied, you are not doing anything wrong and you owe no apologies.

Several factors cloud perspectives on BDSM and make it all the more difficult for the feminist women involved. For a start, pornography is not the most accurate portrayal of the scene. Sure it’s hot, and I’m a big proponent of porn, but it’s helpful to consider the differences between a kinky scene of whips and chains on the set of an adult entertainment film and incorporating similar stuff into a real life relationships. That is, porn will cut straight to the juicy middle of the action hot XXX material, but in reality (at least when you’re trying it out for the first time) there’s a whole lot of less sexy stuff either side. Boundaries established, safe words outlined, choices made and consent declared. Now, this can come about as a casual conversation and needn’t be a signed contract, but nevertheless it happens and makes a big difference to the personal security and state of mind of all participants.

Similarly, I doubt many practitioners of bondage and discipline get up and go about their day qualm free immediately after a session, or even roll over and go to sleep. Fetish clubs have ‘aftercare’ rooms for a reason. Sex involving BDSM is bound to be intense, and as part of a relationship where the ‘normal’ power dynamic is very different from the ‘sexual’ one even more so. The sex I have with my partner is genuinely scary, genuinely painful and I couldn’t be happier with this. But it means the attention I need afterwards is heightened and different from more typical sex. I need reassurance and comfort, and my partner knows this and will always provide.

To claim involvement in BDSM is at odds with feminism is also to assume the kink only comes to light in monogamous heterosexual relationships, with the man taking the dominant position and the woman submissive. That couldn’t be further off the mark. BDSM makes an appearance in every conceivable fashion – short term, long term, strangers, lovers, men, women, tops, bottoms. I think back to my past relationships with women and realise that the power play, pain and punishment were present just as strongly as they are now I’m in a heterosexual relationship. Of course, there are subtle differences and I suppose it’s food for thought, but sex and love and all that comes in between – by its very nature it’s complicated, confusing and it doesn’t make much sense. But there’s very little problem with that.

Whatever the relationship, when practicing any form of BDSM, trust, communication and mutual understanding are truly important. You just couldn’t have a functioning, satisfying or successful time incorporating kink into your sex life without it, which does wonders for relationships that extend outside the bedroom too. Many have suggested that entering a sexual relationship in the role of the submissive is in fact to have the upper hand, the real power, the control. Now personally, I’m not too sure how much I would concede to that. Perhaps admitting so would be a case of taking the fun out of it for me. But certainly, I have laid down what I want to happen (or more to the point, what I don’t) and trust that my partner understands and respects that and then asserts his control back over me. Unquestionably, it’s a choice that I’ve made, that I feel happy about, and that brings about an experience that I want to happen. Isn’t this choice, and the fact that I have a platform to talk about it and share my experience with other women who may be interested in doing the same, a wonderful thing about feminism itself?

Human beings are odd little creatures that often harbour desires that seem strange and wrong and illogical. Add sex into the equation and it only gets more curious. But let me assure you of a few things. Whatever your mind is drawn to while your hand hovers under the bed covers, you’re not alone, you’re not wrong, you shouldn’t be ashamed, and you’re most certainly not a bad feminist. Exercising your freedom of choice to submit all sexual control in a safe environment, if that’s your thing, can be one of the most empowering and liberating experiences. And I know it sounds contradictory, but maybe we are just that, and that’s okay.

Written by Sylvia Fox