Domineering Brutish Communication

Is rampant on social media…

Makes me want to cry when I’m pre-menstrual…

Is extremely common in privileged and dominant culture circles…

Is not BDSM.

I am not saying kinky people communicate better than non-kinky people (oh, so very far from it in many cases, let me tell you), but I am saying that there is something about having privilege in your lived experience which frequently leads to less finely honed tools in the toolkit concerning those subjects. Without a certain amount or type of struggle in one’s life, blunter brute force often rears its head over a practiced grace like listening, not personalizing, and questioning the space between what you are hearing and the intentions and/or blindsightedness of the other speaker (and when I say speaker I frequently mean typer).

Is it really so hard to find those places within ourselves where we pause and question what someone is saying, rather than treating them as though they are inherently the enemy because we’re uncomfortable being pointed out as incorrect or less than perfectly evolved in our communicative efforts? Can we really not imagine that we are the bad guy? I’ve fucked up so many times in my life it’s, well, normal. If I didn’t face my fuck-ups though, I would still be that jerk making the same mistakes over and over again, winning the hearts and minds of precisely no one who isn’t exactly like me.

Truth: when someone hurts my feelings somewhere deep down inside (or superficially, clearly, and longingly), I want them to hurt too. I want them to feel pain and apologize for mine and do things which will comfort me and make me feel better and take away my pain. This is a very normal basic instinct. It is, though, not the best model for behavior, connecting with others, or having friendships last past our first conflict. Why are so many (often online) battles stuck in this space of reaction and attack? Why is it so hard to say “I’m feeling hurt”, and “I’m also feeling hurt” or “I’m afraid you’re mad at me or think I’m a horrible person for doing/saying something which hurt you” or “I’m sorry, what am I missing here”?

What makes us name call instead of question?

What inside us settles upon sarcasm and demeaning language instead of concern?

Two of the best pieces of advice I was ever told were:

  • Trust minorities. Believe them when they tell you things.
  • “Like”, support, and work to amplify the voices of minority people.

The reason these ideas are important is because people who have struggled know more about their struggles from personal and frequently institutional, educational, and communal sources. Someone who can tell you what it’s like to be X, probably also knows more about the subjects concerning X’s oppression than people who aren’t X. So if you care about X people, or even just want to know one X person better, or don’t want to piss X people off it’s a really good practice to listen to what X people say about Xness, and let them know you value their voices in your world.

This means a LOT of men, a lot of white people, a lot of straight people, a lot of cis people, a lot of nondisabled people, a lot of middle and upper class people, and a lot of institutionally well educated people need to learn to listen when someone who is not those things tells them that what they are saying hurts them. This is an opportunity for empathetic or sympathetic response rather than brutish debate strategy. There are always really legitimate reasons we have the blind spots we have in our language, in our logic patterns, in our communication attempts, and in our belief systems, but those blind spots being upheld as legitimate points of view isn’t the point if human connection is the ultimate goal… This means that the more privileged I am in a room, the more I listen and the less I talk. It means when I do talk, I try to speak through asking questions — legitimate questions, not leading ones trying to take back control of a personally uncomfortable narrative.

If you want to get in my pants I actually need to trust you care for the whole reality of the me that is actually living in these pants. Politics surrounding various identities are not truths applying to everyone’s life, but they’re great guidelines for understanding the struggles groups of people face. No one is their identities, but by connecting to and naming our identities, we have unique opportunities to find compassion for ourselves and others. Through exploring identity we are granted new horizons for considering intersectional realities which can help us not put our feet in our mouths frequently around people we want to figure out how to connect to and play with.

This is a lot, yet seemingly necessary, to simply state: play nice (even/especially if you need to be taught how to by the person you’re playing with because they’ve struggled institutionally and/or personally in ways you haven’t).

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

Neverlast

I am the barren uterus and the fertile hands

Touching your parts

Your heart

Your anxieties when the world falls down

I am the oxygen blown into your mouth for fun and flirtation

Teaching you resuscitation

Energy for creation

And the universe spins quickly toward its destructive end

###

You look dizzy commenting on my bigness

A private wish for simpleness, or is it ignorance

Careful, I hold you with space enough to shift and grow

You’re still afeared of atoms somehow seen so differently: the ones defined as “you” and “me”

###

On our backs, deep in the Temple of Wilderness

Hunting quiet tenderness

Resigned to the endings all around us as we make

Crushed bugs, empty bottles, theories of interconnectedness, loud noise, CO2 for the plants nearby to bloooooom, our fucking fucking us back with the story of forever which is this feeling of pleasure — an instant that echoes on and on — radio waves rattling our brains even today, as wars wrapped in voices projected from yesteryear we still hear say:

I TOO WAS HERE!

DO YOU RECALL?

RESSURECT!

REMEMBER ME!!!

… our only answer is orgasm

###

We fall from fairy folly

Petals after rain

Sown Earth and fast Decay

Beauty romantically impressed

Realistically one day

The end

Away

###

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

Spring

Karin Performing with Clothspins

Photo by Rachel Leah Blumenthal

This photo was taken at a show a number of years ago. I was at the CD release party for a friend’s band, performing as MC and doing a number of acts myself. It happened on the Spring Equinox. This year I am performing for Beltane in a ritual space.

I’m in a place of change within my career (appropriate for the time of year). More and more parts of my message traipse across continually blurred lines within my artistic and personal practices. I’ve been having a hard time writing this month, and I think it’s because there’s an internal struggle waging inside me about the legitimacy of being who I am — how to embrace and balance all that I do.

Is my art separate from my kink writing? Is my kink writing separate from my personal relationships? Are my personal relationships separate from my professional relationships? Are my professional relationships meant to be ones where I put on a public face or a show to please others outside of my personal comfort zone?… To all of these questions I answer a resounding “No!”, yet still, my ease has a hard time being as clear as my heart and my mind, and discomfort, fear, and worry that my movements are incorrect sometimes overwhelms my sense of what’s right. I struggle.

What is it I want to say? I want to say that we get to be who we are dynamically in our lifetimes. Sexually and nurturingly, with childish intuition and with wisdom, fiercely and subtly. I want to create a performance where people are able to use my body as an altar for their own process, a wishing fountain, a plot of earth to seed with visions for the next year. This is, after all, what I have to offer.

Descending from winter stress, cold weather contemplation, sitting and planning, blanket-wrapped comforts from the cold, it’s time to undress, to step onto cool wet earth, to see a point on the horizon and set out towards it… I don’t know what this will look like in the end, but I know enough to keep my feet on the ground.

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

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