Fear Me for I Switch

“Pick a Team,” Society and Alt Communities Both Demand.

More years ago than an old-growth redwood has rings, bondage expert Lee Harrington and I were kicked off a local MAsT (Masters and slaves Together) email listserv for being kinky switches. Times have changed but some people still hold switches in suspicion. We’re like bisexuals. You just never know what we’re up to or what we’ll do next. We are not binary. We are a blend of both worlds. Kind of the chocolate-vanilla swirl of the 18+ desserts world.

A lot of water has passed under that listserv’s bridge and the people who made the decision to boot us are long gone from any community I’m aware of, yet Lee and I still stand. Bwhahaha, etc.

Before I get too far gone into rant mode, let me define what a “switch” is. It’s not that thing on the wall that makes the lights go off and on, although there is some similarity in function if not in form. It’s an approach to sexuality and sensation that goes beyond the black and white of pain vs pleasure, good vs bad, Top vs bottom, Dominant vs submissive. Like Lolita Wolfe once said, “Switches aren’t confused. We want it all.”

Not “it all” literally, of course, because that would be a lot of work and responsibility. But we want to sample whatever we want to sample without someone telling us it’s wrong because it’s inconsistent with their perception of who and how we “should be.” It’s a more pansexual world for the switch, with each person and each experience eliciting its unique power-exchange dynamic.

One moment we’re dominating a dyke with tattoos and a penchant for service, the next we’re spanking a pretty boy’s ass, and then we get our hair grabbed before being bound to a St. Andrew’s Cross and flogged into an orgasmic puddle. We’re all over the map, man. This really rattles people who believe that we are born either gay or straight. We are born either Dominant or submissive. We are born one gender superior and in eternal opposition to the other. These are often the same people who believe that they can define “man” and “woman” based purely upon external secondary sexual characteristics. These are generally people who don’t like ambiguity.

For some, there is comfort in the extremes, but I find that there’s rarely much in the way of nuance. For me, so much about sexuality is about the world between the bookend opposites, about its relationship to the people involved and crafting a unique moment with them. I find that some people naturally bring out a more assertive, even dominant, or aggressive aspect of my personality. With others, I feel more vulnerable, more prey than predator. In some cases, it depends upon mood, setting, activity, whimsy, and who brought toys.

I realize that not everyone has these reactions, but I’ve also noticed that younger kinksters are less likely to have a problem with switches. In fact, I meet an awful lot of the 18+ crowd that identify as switches. Or non-binary. Or queer. Or pansexual. Or both a pup and a trainer, a little and a Big, a Daddy and a pain slut. Exploring the full spectrum of emotional, physical, and spiritual experiences available from black through the shades of gray toward white seems more appealing to this generation of lovable perverts. I, as a long-time switch who got sick of being called indecisive and told to pick a team years ago, appreciate them for that.

As with bisexuals, some fear switches because they consider them a dating risk. If a person likes to Top and bottom but their partner only likes to do one of those things, the trepidation is that the switchy partner will simply abandon the pre-existing partner and hook up with someone who can give them “what they want.” This ignores both the possibility of a person willingly choosing monogamy and working within their partner’s comfort zone, as well as the possibility of choosing some form of consensual non-monogamy that gets everyone “what they want.”

It's true that being a switch means twice the chance to find play partners at a party, but it’s also true that we trap ourselves when we work too hard to label ourselves. Maybe we were born this way and maybe we’ve evolved our playstyle in response to our lived experiences. I suspect it’s a bit from Column 1 and a bit from Column 2. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. What matters is whether it works for us.

Our lives are our own to live, and we have a right if not an obligation to craft what random chance has bestowed upon us into something worth looking back on from our death bed and knowing it will scandalize our loved ones. Even the ones who thought they knew us and our eccentricities.

Shock value aside, for me, with the understanding that Your Mileage May Vary, what being a switch is about is not who gets spanked and who has a sore hand. It’s about feeling genuine liberation in the exploration of self via authentic behavior and a sense of wonder. It’s certainly not about trying to fit into someone else’s idea of intimacy.