Your kink, my kink

But it's all good

Your kink is not my kink, but it’s okay.

That’s one of the “rah team!” phrases we’re fond of throwing around when we’re talking to newcomers or members of the press. In print, it’s been shortened to an incredibly unwieldy acronym: YKINMKBIOK. As a concept, it’s pretty sweet actually. It’s one sentence (or lumpy acronym) of unconditional acceptance. It brings to mind the leather community standing together; a black-clad, zipper-encrusted, well-polished example of unity and internal agreement. It’s a sisterhood and brotherhood of open arms, accepting all our personal kinks as equal in value and hotness.

Okay, maybe it’s not quite like that.

Within our little community, the daddy/son ageplay group may view the diaper fetishist with disdainful sniffs. The dominance/submission players may be horrified at what the sadomasochistic players merrily do to each other, and the folks who like public humiliation are embarrassing to those who would never think of playing outside the privacy of their bedrooms. The leather clad oldsters view the PVC clad youngsters with some alarm and may, in turn, irritate those youngsters by referring to the good old days when, unlike kids today, everybody knew what a collar meant.

I, who make such a big deal of community building, am not immune to gazing upon others’ perversions and wondering. I freely admit that I don’t understand breast bondage, the practice of winding rope around a woman’s breasts until they stand out, compressed and turgid. I mean, tits are soft, defenseless and bouncy. Do folks think that if her arms and legs are bound and her tits aren’t, her breasts will flex mightily and drag her to safety? Better tie them up! What’s with that?

My sins don’t end there. I confess I once even made fun of plushie-lovers in public because the urge to riff on the “stuffed toy” theme was so irresistible.

Yes, yes, I will burn in hell for my intolerance.

Here’s the thing: we aren’t a single community. We’re a loose conglomeration of mini communities made up of you and me, our friends and their friends, and public groups made up of individuals who each have an interest in a particular kink, playstyle, clothing, or gender attraction.

What is the key to joining all this together into a cohesive mega-community wherein we can take a political stance, educate ourselves and outsiders, learn from and communicate with each other, make friendly, romantic and sexual connections, and even party with each other? It really does seem to be about accepting our differences long enough to see what important things we might have in common. YKINMKBIOK, indeed.

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Love & Sex, Vancouver

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