Towards a More Inclusive Model of Sexual Orientation

Several years ago, I raised the question on this blog about whether kink could be considered a sexual orientation. Since that time, the issue has gained traction, due in large measure to the notorious "Fifty Shades Effect". Slate writer Jillian Keenan wrote this blog post in the affirmative, which prompted Huffington Post to do an online video conversation on the subject, and the discussion has been picking up steam ever since.

Of course, no conversation about human sexuality would be complete without a few folks waving their hands frantically and raising objections. And just saying "kink is an orientation" doesn’t by itself make it true. So, in this blog post, I'll address some of the more common objections to the idea of a kink orientation, and then present a new model of sexual/affectional orientation for consideration.

Objection # 1: Sexual orientation is about gender

Basically this constitutes a tautological argument that, since certain authorities have officially defined sexual orientation as "an enduring pattern of emotional, romantic, and/or sexual attractions to men, women, or both sexes," then anything outside of this definition should not be equated as an orientation by, um, well, definition. Essentially, this is the same as saying that a nontheistic religion is not really a religion because, well, religions must believe in a deity "by definition" – similar to an argument a Texas official used to try to deny recognition for Unitarian Universalist congregations in that state.

Aside from that parallel (and the fact that there are more expansive definitions of sexual orientation) there are two other reasons for overruling this objection. The first is the reality of asexual people, who experience no sexual attraction to anyone. They don't necessarily hate sex – indeed, not all asexuals are celibate – they just don't feel the same way about it as the rest of us. Asexuality is being regarded as a sexual orientation, a sort of "none of the above" category, and the asexual community has asserted that sexual orientation is distinct from affectional or romantic orientation (including an aromantic identity). Which raises the question: How do we reconcile both tying orientation to gender or sex and recognizing an orientation where one may be attracted to neither/none?

The second reason is rooted in a challenge of the gender binary, including the idea that we are strictly divided into "male" and "female" categories of biological sex. Both intersex and genderqueer identities defy such categorization, as well as being distinct from one another (a genderqueer person may be born biologically male or female, yet refuse to accept either gender; an intersex person may not "fit" into medical definitions of male or female biological sex, while presenting and identifying as either or none). Now imagine someone who does not feel attracted to people who present clearly as masculine or feminine, but who does experience attraction to individuals who present as androgynous or genderqueer? Do we create a new gender label for non-male/non-female people, and a new orientational label for people who are attracted to them? What about genderqueer folks who are attracted only to men, or to women, or either one but not other genderqueer people? The fact is that there are people who, recognizing their attraction to multiple genders and not just two, identify as pansexual, polysexual, omnisexual and/or just plain queer. But this raises a question similar to the previous one: How do we reconcile tying orientation to gender or sex when even these categories are not as cut-and-dried as we originally thought?

Objection #2: Sexual orientation is about who you are and/or who you love, not what you do

Okay … In order to address this, I'm going to have to engage in some rather frank mention of sexual/erotic activity. If that offends you, I suggest that you skip over to the last paragraph of this section. That warning now said, let me present a couple of somewhat hypothetical examples.
I am a heterosexual cisgender man. My romantic/sexual partners are thus women who are attracted to men (and hence self-identify as either hetero-, bi-, pan-, poly- or omnisexual). Such attraction includes the desire to spend time with one another, to hold hands, to kiss and cuddle, and specifically to engage in vaginal intercourse. Now, if orientation is in no way about "what we do," then how is my desire to put my penis in my partner’s vagina, or her desire to have my penis inside her vagina, separate from each of us being attracted to members of the other sex/gender?

Similarly, I identify as kinky, and more specifically as a dominant or service top. As a hetero kinky dominant male, I am most attracted to kinky women who identify as submissives, bottoms or switches, and who are attracted to men. Our mutual desires may include a whole range of activities including bondage, spanking, fantasy role-play, et cetera. But that raises the question of why we’d want to engage in such play, especially when it meets such strong social disapproval. If "what we do" is not based in "who we are" and who we're attracted to, then why do we fantasize about them?

Folks may be exposed to certain things, but that doesn't necessarily mean they are going to like them; some people hate the taste of cilantro, while others clearly enjoy it. Likewise, people who are exposed to something later in life may enjoy it even when they have been raised to find it distasteful; a generation ago, sushi was considered not just exotic but potentially hazardous and "just plain gross," and even after being more widely embraced there are still Americans who dislike it. So if our gustatory tastes transcend our cultural upbringing, and thus are likely rooted in our individual makeup, then why not our erotic tastes as well? In short, "what we do" depends very much on the totality of who we are.

Objection #3: While some kinksters think their sexual desires are an orientation, others do not.

This may be true, but by the same token, some people do not regard their gender-based attraction as an orientation. The question is what paradigm best explains the range of experiences that people report. For gender-based attraction (gay/lesbian, bisexual, heterosexual) a continuum paradigm not only explains the range of desires, but the relative fluidity with which people perceive and interpret their inner experiences. So a person who is primarily heterosexual with incidental same-gender attractions may engage in same-gender eroticism "experimentally" or "for fun" while still identifying as "straight" or "heterosexual". Also, many non-heterosexual people have often said that, while they were not consciously aware of their same-gender attractions, they were aware at an early age of feeling “different” from other people, making the connection only later on.

Likewise, an individual may experience incidental desires towards certain activities labeled as "kinky" and enjoy engaging with them on occasion or even on a fairly regular basis, yet not consider their desire for kink at the same level as someone with a more deep-seated desire for such interactions. Also, some people may have learned to suppress certain desires or fantasies, or may not have been able to connect a need for intense sensory input and/or role-based relational models with specific fantasies until later in life. Combine this with the significant number of kinksters reporting explicit fantasies or other awareness of their desire at an early age, and we have to consider one of four models:

1. That kink is not an orientation, despite the strong resemblance of experience with non-heterosexual people;
2. That kink is “an orientation for some but not for others,” again in spite of the resemblance with gender-based attraction;
3. That kink is an orientation like gender-based attraction, suggesting that people have multiple sexual/affectional orientations;
4. That sexual/affectional orientation is a multifaceted phenomenon, of which both gender-based attraction and kink desires are recognizable elements.

In my mind, this last model is the most parsimonious explanation that fits with the growing body of evidence. And with that said …

A holistic model of sexual/affectional orientation

Alfred Kinsey originally proposed sexual orientation as a two-ended continuum, with exclusive heterosexuality at one end, exclusive homosexuality at the other, and a range of intermediary positions in between. Later researchers, such as Fritz Klein, proposed a more multidimensional paradigm of orientation and identity. The emerging awareness of asexuality as an orientation added even more complexity to the concept of orientation well before members of the BDSM/kink/fetish and polyamory communities began to propose the orientation model as an explanation behind their respective experiences.

How to bring it all together? Let me propose a metaphorical parallel. Imagine that your understanding of music is based on vocal performance. You recognize a range of vocal types – soprano, contralto, tenor, baritone and bass – with finer gradations within each general category, and even some individuals able to express themselves outside of a single range, or to shift in range over time. But music is not limited to vocal range, just as sexual desire is not limited to gender-based attraction. Even vocalists more often than not perform with instrumental accompaniment, adding another dimension to our experience of music. Thus a holistic model of orientation would embrace the full range of sexual desire and experience, not just gender-based attraction, just as an orchestral score includes layers of vocal and instrumental melodies and harmonies.

With that in mind, we may see gender-based sexual attraction as one dimension of this holistic model, often in line with a gender-based affectional/romantic attraction. Another dimension (or "stave" if we follow the musical metaphor) would be the level of sexual attraction, from asexual through demisexual and onwards; similarly, there would be a dimension for levels of affectional/romantic attraction. BDSM, kink and fetish sexuality would most likely be expressed in multiple staves – intensity and/or type of sensation, attraction to power-based roles, foci of attraction, and so forth. Even monogamy and polyamory may be rooted in a continuum of some type.

Some may object to such a paradigm as overly deterministic, yet I would argue that it provides a balance with individual volition. Each of us has a multitude of desires, just as an orchestral score reveals a carefully harmonized arrangement. How we act upon those desires, and identify with them, is our choice. We may deny some dimension of ourselves at a cost, or we may find a way to express it in accompaniment with others. Thus how our orientation is “scored” provides the foundation for how those desires may be expressed, which relies on (if you'll pardon the pun) how we conduct ourselves in the world.

Thoughts on “50 Shades”

Anyone who’s kept track of my Facebook postings and comments, or talked to me either online or in person, would know that I’m not really a fan of 50 Shades of Grey. The writing is amateurish, the characters are as flat as the pages they’re printed on, and the representation of BDSM is atrocious. It’s because of that last part that I couldn’t get past the scene where Christian shows Ana his dungeon, then presents her with a detailed contract, all before learning (much to his apparent annoyance) that she’s still a virgin. Christian represents the kind of clueless jerk who gets thrown out of BDSM groups.

And yet … there’s no denying that this novel evokes something in people. Set aside for a moment that it’s sold over a hundred million copies worldwide. Groups like Black Rose and The Eulenspiegel Society have seen a marked increase in new members and workshop attendees. Sex educators who previously found their “Kink 101” class offerings had little interest suddenly found that renaming it under the “50 Shades” brand suddenly filled the room. Experts are talking about bondage, role-play and other kinks more openly – and more positively – than ever before.

And that’s just the book. Wait until the movie comes out in February.

Oh, that’s right – we don’t have to wait. There’s already talk about the trailer. Plus there are groups like Morality in Media, and its recent offshoot Pornography Harms, rushing to denounce the film even before they’ve seen it. Not surprising, as their principal ideologue Gail Dines is relentless in her defamatory attacks on BDSM. Come to think of it, Dines is so quick to condemn so many forms of sexual expression and desire, one has to wonder if there’s any she does approve of. But, I digress …

If history is any guide, including and especially the history of human sexual psychology, the motion picture version of this tale will be far greater than that of the written version. The book’s popularity became viral over the Internet. And as clips and still images from the movie are downloaded and shared, they are likely to awaken desires and fantasies in who knows how many more – including many in our UU congregations.

Kinksters are already responding to this. We recognize “50 Shades” as an imperfect vessel, much as the pulp fiction novels and exploitation films were for many gay men and lesbians pre-Stonewall. Neither ignoring its impact, nor lauding it as is, will serve us well – but other options exist. The question for this post, however, is what options make the most sense for Unitarian Universalists, with regard to both public witness and pastoral care.

Both kinksters and UUs affirm and value diversity, including how people find love and pleasure. Those of us drawn to those forms identified as “kinky” have cultivated means to fulfill such desires with full consent and minimal risk of harm. Yet as the actions and words of people like Professor Dines remind us, there are people who are quick to condemn without understanding. Given our principles and core values, and the lessons of history, which course makes sense for us? I would hope our principle of truth-seeking would lead us to engage in dialogue and cooperate with those seeking to educate and promote greater awareness, amongst ourselves and with the wider world.

The Silence of Our Friends

Two articles have prompted me to write this post. The first, written by CNN’s John Sutter, explored "The County Where No One’s Gay". Sure enough, he found there are gay and lesbian folks in Franklin County, Mississippi – but, as is often said in those parts, "There are some things you just don’t talk about." Your hetero neighbors can talk about feeling lonely, falling in love, getting married – while you sit and endure jokes, slurs, and even beatings.

But before that piece came an article in the Washington Post, titled "Many Unitarians Would Prefer that Their Polyamory Activists Keep Quiet". As soon as the link was printed in the discussion list for UUs for Polyamorous Awareness, the spin-doctoring began, with people saying the article read like it was ten years old, and must have been dragged out of mothballs to fill space on a slow news day. And I admit that I joined in the crowd, blaming the journalist for not doing any follow-up research.

Well, I’m beginning to think I was too quick to blame Lisa Miller. Perhaps she did do some follow-up after all. It might not have been much, but …

Take a look on the UUA website. About the only up-to-date information is that UUPA is now on record as a "Related Organization." The only official statement from the UUA, dated from 2004, declares that "the UUA has never supported the legal recognition of polyamorous relationships, nor has this issue ever been considered by any official decision-making body of the Association," and that "related organizations are not endorsed by the UUA board of trustees." And while the UUPA offers a curriculum on polyamorous families, there’s no indication that the UUA itself is educating its ministers or congregations on the subject.

In short, if you were looking for signs of progress in how Unitarian Universalists address polyamory, you’d really have to hunt for it. Queer identity and marriage equality, sure. But polyamory? Well … there are some things you just don’t talk about, even in a faith that embraces "a free and responsible search for meaning and truth."

It’s even worse for Unitarian Universalist kinksters. While UU polyfolk have minimal recognition, kinksters have no official existence. Some congregations are accepting, and some individuals will express their support – privately. But don’t expect them to suggest that we do more education around the topic, even with mainstream media outlets like The New York Times and the Oprah Winfrey Network. Don’t expect them to talk about the uncomfortable truth of people being discriminated against in various ways, even in supposedly liberal places like UU congregations. After all … there are some things you just don’t talk about.

That’s all too convenient when you’re in a position of authority and relative privilege. All too convenient to minimize, to dismiss, to avoid, to not talk about it. Whether it’s racism, homophobia, transphobia, polyphobia or kinkphobia, it’s all too convenient to talk about other people’s ignorance, and overlook our own "ignore-ance" – our tendency to marginalize and rationalize why you "just don’t talk" about such things.

The problem, for those of us who have to put up with all of that, is that we can’t do that. This isn’t just another abstract issue that challenges us – it’s our lives. And when others in our lives decide it’s just not convenient to talk about or think about, while the damage continues to be done, … well, I hope you the reader get the picture.

What I find most ironic is how those of us who have been allies, and who have spoken up against all the damaging "-isms" and "-phobias" out there, find no reciprocation. Many polyfolk and kinksters are white, and have spoken up about racism, including within our own communities. We’ve spoken up for GLBTQ rights, including marriage equality, and anti-gay bullying. It’s not that we’re asking for payback – we’re just surprised that the people we’ve been supporting all these years, and whom we expect to know better, seem so quick to apply double standards.

When I preached about BDSM and kink this past summer, the first question asked was: “What can we vanilla folks do to support you?” Three simple things:

First: Acknowledge that we exist.

Second: Learn all you can about us.

Third: Don’t just tell us that you understand or support us. As much of a boost as that can be, the ones who need to hear that most are those who continue to ignore, dismiss and marginalize us. Don’t just speak to us, and about us – speak for us.

Martin Luther King is credited with saying: "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." From my own experience, I constantly wonder if those who refuse to speak up are doing so because they’re reluctant to listen. And that’s the real shame, because there are some things we just shouldn’t ignore.

Sermon: Leather & Grace

Delivered at Arlington Street Church, Boston MA – June 24th, 2012

You may have noticed in the past few months that various news outlets have been reporting on how a British woman’s first novel, published out of small press in Australia, had reached the New York Times bestseller list. Indeed, within two months of its being picked up and republished by Vintage Books, its sales exceeded ten million copies.

How did 50 Shades of Grey – a tale about a young woman submitting to the will and painful discipline of a wealthy Adonis – attract such a following? For whatever reason, the phenomena of sadomasochism, dominance and submission, and other forms of sexual kink were now seemingly becoming mainstream.

Actually, it should not have surprised anyone. A year before that, Rihanna’s song "S&M" peaked at number two on the Billboard hit charts. In 2002, Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader starred in the kinky love story Secretary. Around the same time that movie was released, viewers of the hit show CSI were introduced to the dominatrix Lady Heather, who would appear in six episodes through the series, and develop a complicated relationship with its main character Gil Grissom.

But these are fictional performances, barely scratching the surface of reality. Given our mainstream media’s penchant for sensationalizing the unusual, those of us who are part of the BDSM community find ourselves living a paradox, where more people know about us and our sexuality, but myths and misconceptions still abound.

And, like it or not, this is a challenge for Unitarian Universalists, just as homosexuality was in the late 1960’s. Should UUs and other religious progressives merely accept mainstream presumptions, or question those presumptions and seek to learn more? Both our principles and our history call for us to engage in a deeper search for truth, and to overcome the prejudices of the past.

Let’s start by understand the umbrella term BDSM, itself a combination of three acronyms:

• B/D for “bondage and discipline,” the use of physical or psychological restraint in an erotic context;
• D/s for “Dominance and submission,” also known as consensual power exchange; and
• S/M for “sadomasochism,” where pain or other intense stimuli are used to enhance sexual pleasure – pain, but not necessarily injury, and certainly not serious injury.

BDSM covers a wide spectrum of expression, practiced by a diverse community. Some may like what others find painful, others do not. Some identify as “dominant” or “submissive,” others are “switches” alternating between the two, and still others refuse to embrace any fixed role. And that’s just for starters!

This community has its own lingo, cultural symbols and ethical standards. The most common expression for this BDSM ethic is “safe, sane and consensual.” We develop skills and take precautions to minimize the risks of injury, much like rock climbers do; we also make sure everyone involved is in a proper frame of mind; and we take steps to communicate and understand what everyone involved will do together.

Another parallel between BDSM and sports like rock climbing is that people outside of these communities often wonder: “Why do they do it?” Well, the reasons are as diverse as the range of erotic expression – or other activity – that’s out there. The best summation I can give you is that we kinksters explore the delicate balance of risk, trust, intensity and intimacy – a balance within which many of us find a deeply spiritual aspect, what Justin Tanis refers to as “ecstatic communion”.

Still, even with these parallels to such activities, BDSM is nowhere near as tolerated. How many of you out there enjoy sushi, even just occasionally? [several hands go up] Wow, a full house! Now imagine that you travel to an area where eating raw fish is considered unhealthy, even dangerous, and people like you who enjoy this delicacy are looked upon as disturbed or sick. Just mentioning that you’ve tried sushi could cause you to lose friends or hurt your career; doctors can even refuse to treat you because they consider sushi eating a “high-risk activity.” Sushi restaurants would be banned, and few places would sell recipe books, raw ingredients like nori and wasabi, bamboo mats for rolling maki, and so forth. Making sushi for yourself at home might be tolerated, so long as you didn’t tell anyone about it, but having friends over for a sushi party runs the risk of being raided by the police for violating public health laws, in spite of any precautions you take to assure the health and safety of your guests.

Imagine you and your sushi-loving friends living with a sense of isolation and dread. Imagine trying to explain to others that this is safe, that what you choose to eat is your own business, that psychologists can show that you’re no more sick than non-sushi people, but to no avail. Imagine wondering who around you is like you, or at least willing to listen.

Friends, what I’ve just described is what many of us kinksters go through. We’re put in the bind of being told to “keep this private,” while living with the fear of what could happen if our privacy is violated. And so, I’ve decided to take a risk – to open myself up to you, and to field your questions. That is the next step on this journey of understanding and change.

[The sermon was followed by a "talk-back" session with a number of comments and questions, from what vanilla allies could do about discrimination, to questions about identity.]

UUs, Kinksters, Community and Diversity: What We Could Learn from One Another

This started with a question posted on FetLife, the social networking site for the BDSM community: How do your UU beliefs affect your kink, and vice versa? I’ve long said that our two communities could learn from one another, but seeing the topic put in print once more had made me think a little more deeply about two areas often discussed by both groups, but in different ways – community and diversity.

We kinksters often talk about “the community” without clearly defining it. Some even debate whether we really have a kink community, and I can see why. Compared to a Unitarian Universalist congregation, a local kink community often seems like nothing more than a bunch of folks gathered around the shared trait of non-vanilla sexuality. UUs really think through what we mean by community – what brings and keeps us together, how we get things done, how leaders are chosen and held accountable. One could say that, because we’ve had to address those issues for centuries, we’ve gotten it all down pat. And while I’d agree that’s a large part of it, we also have to consider that many of our congregations are relatively young, and our entire faith movement has been continually exploring the definition and praxis of community.

UUs also surpass kinksters in another important aspect of community formation. Ours is a thoroughly democratic tradition. I’m not just talking about electing governing boards, or debating and ratifying resolutions. Democracy is integral to our culture and ethos – we’re so used to it that to many of us it’s become second nature. Contrast that to the large number of local BDSM organizations run as so-called “benevolent dictatorships,” and the host of groups torn apart because inadequate governance procedures could not keep petty personal disputes in check.

Now, with all that being said, kinksters do have a considerable advantage over Unitarian Universalists. While we UUs talk frequently about embracing diversity, it seems to me that kinksters have a better approach in this area. Yes, UUs have plenty of workshops and documents and colorful PowerPoint presentations … but I’ve seen too many UUs who seem to think that, once they’ve gone through this or that workshop, they’ve earned their credentials and they’re done. If someone proposed having an educational program, and it turned out the congregation had hosted it two or three years ago, they’d wonder if it was worth a repeat performance. Kinksters would be saying: “Well, not everyone attended last time, and we’ve had a lot of new members who could benefit, and I know I could use a refresher course … let’s do it.” Not to mention deliberately repeating certain topics, like new member orientation or basic safety or CPR certification.

A large part of it is because “kink” or “BDSM” is not a single identity, but an umbrella for a wide diversity of consensual sexual expression. So, just as UUs have gotten into the habit of democratic governance, kinksters have gotten into the habit of educating one another about our different forms of eroticism, including really edgy, button-pushing topics. As education coordinator for the New England Dungeon Society, I was always pleasantly surprised at the turnout our classes had, especially with people who had no personal interest in the topic, but thought it was important to learn about what other kinksters were into. That, to me, seems a vital factor in embracing diversity – that understanding is a prerequisite for acceptance and affirmation. And that understanding is not like earning a graduate degree or professional certificate – do it once, and then you’re set. No, it’s more like first aid and CPR – you have to keep going back to get re-certified, because there are always changes and it’s always good to keep up on those skills; plus the importance of having as many people as possible learning those skills, so as many people as possible can benefit.

Unitarian Universalists have been able to sustain local democratic communities for generations – but we still have a ways to go towards the embrace of diversity.

Kinksters have learned that diversity requires continual education and growth – but many of our local communities are still wrestling with foundational issues of getting groups off the ground and keeping them going.

Come, let us learn from one another.

"Lust" -- A Sermon

Delivered at Arlington Street Church, Boston MA, July 31st 2011

Parable – "Alien Visitation"

And now, breaking news … Officials at the United Nations have announced that they have been in communication with a race of extraterrestrials, but that the aliens have decided not to pursue any further contact with the human race, as they consider us to be "bereft of moral fiber."

The aliens, who are referred to by Earth scientists as Orthophagians, seem to regard human dietary habits as indulgent, wasteful and unwholesome. UN diplomats reported that Orthophagian delegates actually shuddered at offers of food, explaining that their species only consumes one simple meal every other day in private, and that they regard utterances centered on eating and hunger to be vulgar.

One French official stated in disbelief: "Restaurants are not only shocking to them, but downright disgusting. One of the aliens commented to me that the very thought of using the same plates and utensils as thousands of strangers made him nauseous, and wondered how debased people would have to be to work in such an establishment. I tried to explain that many gourmet chefs are highly regarded educators and celebrities, but he dismissed it as more evidence of an unhealthy obsession on our part, and claimed that this was the root of our civilization being so backwards in their eyes."

There was apparently a debate among the aliens about whether to send educational teams to propagate their own approach to food, which they regard as more natural and allowing greater dedication to higher pursuits, but it was feared that prolonged contact with Earth customs could have a corrupting effect.

The leader of the Orthophagian delegation was reported to have ended discussions with a backhanded expression of gratitude at having encountered the human race. "There are many heretical sects among us seeking to loosen our moral strictures," she stated, "and now we can show them just what a sordid approach will lead to."

Sermon

Seven deadly sins – Pride, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony and Lust. How did it come to pass that lust gained such prominence, not only in the amount of energy dedicated to stamping it out, but in defining it so extremely that the mere desire for sex became dangerous in itself? The parable I offered is analogous to how many Western explorers, and Christian missionaries in particular, viewed the sexual mores and attitudes of other cultures with self-righteous disdain, and with how many on the Religious Right see much of the outside world.

With all the other sins, it’s a question of balance. Nothing wrong with a healthy sense of self-esteem, or finding time to relax and refresh oneself, or even to express anger at wrongdoing. Our culture and religious communities also tend to be more forgiving of transgressions in those areas.

But sex? Some might say that we’ve come a long way since the days of Augustine, Savonarola, the Puritans, and nineteenth century crusaders like Anthony Comstock. Still we have latter-day successors to that tradition, attempting to push sexual minorities back in the closet, interfere with women’s reproductive choices, deprive young people of accurate and meaningful education on sexuality, and even infringe on the rights of consenting adults in our private lives. And still we have a tendency to equate sexual and conformity with morality in general. Even when some attempt to redefine "lust" as unhealthy or excessive desire, we obsess over what we mean by "unhealthy" or "excessive." Fear, shame and obsession about sex looms not only over so-called "social conservatives," but over each and every one of us.

When I started Sacred Eros here a couple of years ago, providing a safe space for people to talk about sexuality issues, it amazed me how many people would contact me by email and phone to say that, as much as they wanted to attend and participate, there was still something holding them back – and yet there was still the need for advice, information, or even the simple assurance that having different desires did not make them depraved monsters.

How did we get here? How did we come to downplay the New Testament’s admonitions about anger and avarice, only to exaggerate to absurdity the idea that sexual desire itself was even worse? I would argue that it is no accident that this is tied to Eurocentric religious traditions, for the problem is not merely ethical or cultural or political, it is also deeply spiritual – and so too are the tools by which we may find a remedy.

In his book Body Theology, James Nelson offers that much of the problem stemming from the Christian tradition’s denigration and demonization of sexuality is rooted in a number of hierarchical dualisms – simplistic attempts to explain the world in binaries of inferior and superior elements. The first of these divides the world into mind, spirit and reason at the top, and body, flesh and passion at the bottom. Such a dualism did not really exist in the Hebraic sacred texts; indeed, many of the dualistic notions we take for granted in traditional Christian thought actually come from Hellenistic philosophy and various mystery cults such as the Manichees. But it is from that influence that the Greek words for love – eros and agape – were no longer interchangeable as before, but rigidly separated into the "higher, spiritual" love of agape and the "lowly, carnal" passion of eros.

The second dualism is that of gender – male over female. To this day, many churches persist in maintaining male privilege in the name of tradition and obedience to God’s law, despite the fact that a careful reading of the New Testament shows that women had a very prominent role in the formation of the early church, and Jesus himself broke the taboos of his day by freely talking with women, even those of supposedly questionable reputation. Even when first-wave feminists argued for reform in the Victorian era, many of them merely reversed stereotypical gender roles rather than challenge them altogether. Whereas before it was argued that men were inherently more rational and women more emotional, Victorian activists for sexual purity proposed that women’s essential spiritual natures should be put to use in guiding and restraining men’s animalistic libido – a theme we can still see being perpetuated in abstinence-only programs offered in high schools across the country.

These dualisms – and the very notion that reality is divided and stacked in such simplistic ways – are rooted in a misguided desire for order. Everything must be in its proper place, fitting into a precise and rational system prescribed by God and nature. Sex is for procreation, and the variety of "unnatural" sexual activities must all be done away with: masturbation, contraception, oral and anal sex, homosexuality and pornography. Forget how women’s lives are diminished and even extinguished by denying them the ability to control their own bodies. Forget the misery caused by such repression, and the energy expended to maintain it. Order must be preserved! I mentioned Anthony Comstock, founder of the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice, and the leading crusader against all things which he considered obscene and immoral (including artwork, literature and medical texts). Not only did he take great pride cataloging all of the books and pictures and devices he had destroyed in his quest, he even included in that trophy list the names of fifteen individuals whom his actions drove to suicide.

There are many problems with this whole dualistic mindset. The most profound is that it cripples our creative ability to find better ways of addressing the questions and issues facing us. Forcing the world into polar opposites simply will not do, for the world is not so simple. Rather than try to impose our limited sense of order upon nature, why don’t we seek to understand its continual and complex dance towards balance? The US Park Service, for example, for decades would decree that every forest fire must be put out – until ecologists pointed out that natural fires were part of the balance of regenerating those environments. That point was driven home after the Yellowstone fires of 1988, when the burned-over areas exploded with new growth in the months and years to follow.

Let us also find balance within ourselves, and learn to celebrate our bodies and sensuality as spiritual gifts. In this holistic view, eros can be seen as the means by which we connect with one another and with the Divine. It is the means by which the Divine’s incarnation in our flesh, our breath, our thoughts and emotions, and indeed with all of nature, is made profoundly known.

Dualism also leads to moral, social and cultural double standards which restrict how each of us is expected to experience and express our erotic desires. Consider how fervently the Religious Right opposes marriage equality – indeed, any recognition of same-gender relationships – because in their eyes it would "redefine" marriage and even destroy it. Well, if you lived in their subculture, so heavily infused with strict gender hierarchies, you’d understand just how threatening it is to propose a gender-neutral way of looking at marriage and relationships. And think of the stereotypical expectations we have regarding the intersection of sexuality with race, ethnicity, class, age, disability, and so forth.

So how should we define (or re-define) sexual sin? Should we simply look at the list of what specific actions and relationship paradigms are permissible or forbidden, and either scratch things off or write in new ones? I’d suggest that we need something much more radical than merely replacing one form of legalism with another. We need a sexual ethic rooted in the fulfillment of justice – of compassion, right relationship, mutual joy and pleasure. Such an approach is at once liberating and challenging. It is liberating in that it clears away the debris of ancient prohibitions and double standards which have choked at the forest of our souls. But it is also challenging in that it calls on us to look at sexual desire and expression with fresh eyes, and to discern with a new set of questions:
* Is there full consent and awareness here?
* What are the full range of choices available?
* What role does power and privilege play?
* Will there be balance?
* Will there be joy?

My friends, eros calls to us, to let fires burn that life may be renewed, yet not to worship the fire itself, but instead to appreciate its place in the balance of things. We are called to restore that balance – within our hearts, within our intimate relationships, and throughout a world in dire need of justice and freedom, love and delight.

Eros is calling. Do you hear, oh my friends?

The Minister in the Bedroom

It started while attending the opening service at the Mass Bay District's annual meeting, listening to the sermom being given by a longtime UU minister. It was a rallying cry of sorts, and part of that was celebrating what he thought was right and good about Unitarian Universalism. And one of those things was that our ministers stay out of people's bedrooms.

Since then, I've heard other folks -- ministers especially -- use similar phrasing. And it's always led to my fiendish brain kicking in: What if I want my minister in the bedroom?

I'm not being literal here, as I'm sure that minister was not. But I can see how this exhortation to "stay out of the bedroom" might be misapplied -- how a minister who feels uncomfortable or unprepared on sexual matters could use it as a reason to refuse to counsel one of their parishioners on the subject. I don't think that's what this fellow intended, and it sure doesn't sound like good pastoral care.

I'd rather we say that ministers -- whether UU or any other tradition -- do not intrude into people's sex lives. May seem like a picky semantic thing, but there's a huge difference. Saying you won't intrude leaves open being able to provide guidance and support to someone facing an ethical or existential crisis around sex, just as pastors do so for many other events in our lives. It calls for a healthy respect for boundaries, both for the minister and the person being counseled. And it calls for ministers to be prepared, not only by being informed, but also in dealing with their own questions and comfort levels.

Right now, Unitarian Universalists across the continent have been engaging in conversations about the ethics of food production and consumption. That includes ministers preaching on the topic, and giving counsel to their parishioners. I've not heard anyone saying that our ministers should "stay out of" our kitchens and shopping carts -- but we also don't want them to cross the line and impose a list of rules on the rest of us. We turn to them for guidance when needed and invited, and expect that guidance to be suitably informed.

I'd like to see more of the same about sex. I'd like to see more real conversations about the value of consent, mutuality, and healthy boundaries. I'd like to hear more thoughtful sermons on sex and sexuality. I'd like more folks to come out to their ministers -- not just LGBTQ folks, but kinky, polyamorous, asexual and intersexual -- and more ministers giving people permission to do so. I'd like us to be more proactive in welcoming, engaging and supporting one another in this vital aspect of our lives.

Yes, I want my minister in the bedroom -- when needed and invited, to help with healing and discernment.

Why I'm Signing Change.org's Petition to iPhone

Recently, Exodus International has released an iPhone app which makes it easier for people to send "help" to young folks questioning their sexuality. Translation: If you want to scare and shame a teenager you know into a so-called ex-gay ministry, there's an app for that.

Now if any group wants to offer an app, that's their right. But for Apple to rate such a feature as having "no objectionable content"? I beg to differ.

At best, the claims of these groups to "cure" homosexuality through prayer and/or "reparative therapy" is incredibly dubious. Many of these ministries don't even do long-term follow-up studies on the effectiveness of their programs.

And that's the best you can say about them. From what many men and women who have endured those programs have reported, the potential for psychological harm is very high and very real.

From a spiritual perspective, it seems to me that the whole basis of ex-gay ministries is a legalistic dogma -- that being gay and being "right with God" are mutually exclusive, based on a biased reading of six Bible passages. Now we can debate the meaning of the Hebrew and Greek, and the context of those passages, but instead I'll just pose one simple question:

If you believe that all things are possible with God, then why not the possibility that there's nothing inherently wrong with same-gender love?

The Exodus app is at the very least false advertising, and at worst it is selling poison as medicine. Please join me in signing Change.org's petition, and demand that Apple stop supporting the Exodus app.

An Apology (Sort of) To the Family Research Council

Dear Tony Perkins:

I recently read your announcement demanding an apology from the Southern Policy Law Center for including your organization, the Family Research Council, in its latest list of "hate groups."

Granted, I'm not affiliated with them, so I cannot speak for them. But since I do support them, and since you would very likely include me as someone on "the Left" -- and, perhaps worse, the Religious Left -- then I might as well respond.

I'm sorry the SPLC saw fit to label your organization as a hate group. I'm sorry that they saw so much vitriol in your official publications, and so much effort made towards demonizing an entire group of Americans, that they were afraid for those Americans.

I'm sorry that they were alarmed about your opposition to efforts at ending bullying in public schools, solely because those programs merely mentioned that some people feel attraction and romantic love towards people of the same gender, or identify with a gender which doesn't fit with their biological sex.

I'm sorry that they are worried about the FRC advocating "criminal sanctions against homosexual behavior" being enshrined into law and enforced by police and prosecutors across the country. Forget the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights, or the very idea that government shouldn't be intruding into people's private lives. Such basic rights shouldn't apply to those people, right?

I'm sorry that your view of morality is so narrow. You claim to root your positions in the "Judeo-Christian worldview." All well and good, but didn't the prophets call for justice and mercy? And didn't Jesus command that we should love our neighbor, and even our enemies? Didn't he also warn against casting judgment on others, and called on his disciples to serve the poor?

I'm sorry that you are so obsessed with other people's sexuality that you feel the need to raise and spend millions of dollars towards scapegoating them, when those millions could have been used towards, let's see, feeding the hungry.

I'm sorry that you feel the need to appeal to fear and and ignorance, instead of encouraging Christians and gays to come and reason together (Isaiah 1:18). I'm sorry that you feel so threatened by the pluralism of our society -- the very same pluralism which has allowed the religious liberty you enjoy -- that you believe you need to target outsiders for blame and shame, rather than make an effort to understand them.

I'm sorry the Family Research Council has been labeled a hate group. Perhaps now you could do something about it?

Who Says It's Private?

The right to privacy has long been treasured in American political culture. We don’t want government to interfere in our personal lives, especially regarding sexuality, and we tend to be skeptical of other busybodies as well. It is a cornerstone for many of the advances in sexual justice and freedom, from reproductive rights to GLBT equality.

Privacy has also been invoked in a negative sense as well – to silence and constrain already marginalized groups. Because our culture deems sex “a private matter,” not only do we proscribe sexually explicit media to ridiculous extremes, but we still debate whether couples should be allowed to hold hands or exchange a kiss in public. More often than not, however, privacy is invoked as a reason for upholding double standards upon those less powerful. A woman can put up a picture of her beloved on her desk at work – but if that beloved is another woman, don’t be surprised if someone accuses her of being “militant” or “flaunting” about her sexuality. A spiritual community will encourage folks to come to events with their partners – but no more than one at a time. And no problem saying where you and your partner met – unless you happened to meet at a fetish-themed nightclub.

Granted, some people are just not ready to hear all of that. But there’s a big difference between admitting personal discomfort, and using it to declare an objective moral rule that certain “private” realities are permanently off limits. Many people see this as a form of rationalization, but I wonder if there’s something deeper at work. Western culture, and American culture especially, is one which discourages folks from admitting to weakness. Admitting personal discomfort with something can sound very much like a personal failing, as opposed to creating a moral proscription based on that discomfort.

Nor is it confined to outright conservatives. Many folks who are comfortable with GLBT friends, or who are queer themselves, may bristle at discussions of polyamory or kink. Often they make the distinction between “orientation” and “behavior” – who you’re drawn to, or what gender with which you identify, versus how many partners or what you choose to do with them. Are they forgetting that holding your beloved’s hand on the street, or displaying their picture in your cubicle or office, is also considered behavior – and also likely to be declared “off limits” by someone who takes offense? Should we not ask ourselves whether it is the behavior itself which makes us uncomfortable, or the reality which it represents?

The very meaning of privacy is the power of the individual to discern and decide which aspects of their lives should be free from intrusion, and from whom – to set a boundary, if you will, between what others can and cannot know about you. Respecting privacy is not merely about staying on your side of the boundary, but letting the other person determine who or what belongs on which side. Should the comfort level of others be a part of that decision? Of course - but not the only part, and certainly not when it threatens one's integrity, or otherwise damages souls or relationships. Boundaries ultimately need to be negotiated, in good faith among equals who are willing to learn and grow together.

Stone Age Sex, Modern Polyamory

The new book Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality has been getting a great deal of buzz lately, especially with the co-authors' strong refutation that monogamy is not natural for humans. A number of polyamorists and sex radicals have been posting "told-you-so" commentary on blogs and social network pages -- and I can only imagine what more conservative folks are thinking.

Having studied social and behavioral science, I'm always skeptical of any extreme claims about human nature, whether it's about being "hard-wired" one way or another, or the old-fashioned "blank slate" theory. Neither is entirely accurate, even when talking about something as instinctive as sexuality.

For one thing, humans have enormous variability, even in the most basic elements. Some individuals have powerful libidos, while others have little to none. The question of sexual behavior -- how we channel that desire -- is as much molded by culture and psychology as it is by hormones and neurons.

Sex at Dawn provides great scientific insights, and challenges long-held preconceptions about human sexuality. But it's far from a handbook on sexual ethics. Even if we are "wired" for promiscuity, that doesn't mean we're compelled to get it on with anyone and everyone who turns us on. Our brains are also wired for more complex emotional relationships, and to anticipate long term consequences. And a sound ethical approach is one which finds a balance between primal instinct, social necessity, and individual variation.

Human nature is complex, including human sexuality. Just as we need to be skeptical about the false dichotomy of biological determinism versus tabula rasa, we also need to reject the either-or fallacy of "traditional morality" versus "moral chaos". Hopefully the buzz around this book will open people's eyes to the ethical approach adopted by polyamorists and others -- one based on consent and respect, including respect for the realities of human diversity.

Leather & Grace, Part IV: For Those Who Wonder Why

Our culture is filled with preconceptions. One is that religious groups must have a binding creed or dogma, often rooted in a particular mythological narrative. Is it any wonder, then, that many are confused when first hearing about Unitarian Universalism – a pluralistic and non-creedal faith movement? And I’m sure many other UUs out there have experienced the frustration of trying to describe our movement to someone who simply cannot get past their preconception of what a religion ought to be.

Likewise, many of us have inherited preconceptions about sexuality and relationships. One of the biggest is that, since sex is supposed to be pleasurable, and since the opposite of pleasure is pain, then the very idea of being sexually aroused by pain is, well… you get the idea.

Closely related to that is fear. We kinksters often play with fear, uncertainty, and other otherwise unpleasant emotional states. And, just as with pain, that goes against what the vast majority of us have learned about sex and intimate relationships. You’re supposed to be loving and gentle with your partner, feed them strawberries and give good hugs … not scare the bejeezus out of them!

Well, what if they want to be scared? What if they are wired in such a way that they need more extreme stimulus than the average person?

And it’s not like vanilla folks avoid fear and pain completely. How many of you love going to scary movies or riding really wild roller-coasters? Or ordered the extra-spicy Buffalo wings, or more exotic fare like Icelandic cured shark? How many of you out there have run a marathon or lifted weights, and continued even when every muscle in your body screamed with pain? Or done bungee-jumping, hang-gliding or parachuting, even when – or because – it scared the bejeezus out of you?

The fact is that context is very important to how scary or painful we perceive an experience to be. One time when I was a kid, we were rushing out of the house before sunrise for a long drive to my grandparents. I grabbed what I thought was a pitcher of orange juice, hastily poured a glass, and found myself unexpectedly drinking grapefruit juice. It would take years before I drank another glass of grapefruit juice, and it was from that I learned about how your state of mind can affect your perception of reality. And that in turn would help me later in understanding how my submissive play partners so thoroughly enjoyed otherwise painful or frightening experiences, just as some enjoy intensely spicy foods or wild amusement park rides while others may shudder at the thought of them.

Delivering such experiences is no easy task. Just as you need an instructor to guide you in parachuting or bungee-jumping, so BDSM practices require specific knowledge and skills to be done right. There also needs to be full communication between partners, if both are to enjoy the experience they share.

But for many outside of the Scene, the question still remains: Why do these particular things? The exact answer can vary from one individual to another, but overall it is because it’s not simply about intense emotions and sensations. It is also about trusting another, exploring the primal depths of our desires, and creating a safe place to dance with the shadow part of ourselves.

Leather & Grace, Part III: Playing with Power

We UUs have, to put it mildly, a rather ambivalent relationship with power. On the one hand, we come across as extreme individualists; on the other, we retain many of the structures and trappings of our Protestant Christian forebears. We detest creeds and shibboleths, constantly reviewing and questioning every jot and tittle of the covenants and affirmations which hold us together, arguing over resolutions and forcefully asserting our right to disagree. Yet we still call ministers, elect congregational boards, and turn to district and national staff for guidance. And even then, there will be those who complain that all these elected and appointed elites have “too much power” for their tastes.

Perhaps this is a core reason why so many UUs are uneasy with BDSM. It’s not the flogging or the bondage gear or the fetish attire – it’s the issue of power, of one person being dominant and the other submissive. To be more specific, it’s about assumptions regarding power, and how those assumptions can cloud our perception of the reality of D/s relationships. Longtime leatherman Hardy Haberman sums it up best:

For most of the world, domination is a sign of anger and suppression, yet in the context of a leather scene it can be an act of caring and affection. As children we were taught that submission is a sign of weakness, yet in our realm submission becomes a voluntary surrender of power and an act worthy of respect.

Dominants do not simply demand power from a submissive, nor does the submissive simply bow down at any given dominant’s command. The healthy D/s relationship is one of continual communication, negotiation and mutual growth – just as in any other human relationship, including those we find in spiritual community. And while D/s relationships may be overtly hierarchical, they begin from an equal footing, with each partner retaining the right to call for a reassessment of their relationship dynamics.

This is not to say that we don’t have kinksters with their own issues about power and control. But the BDSM community is in many ways a paradigm of an explicitly covenantal community. From customs and etiquette to written rules and contracts, we are constantly negotiating and delineating how we interact with one another, and what it means to be part of our tribe.

“But don’t we do that in UU circles, too?” Sure, although I’d say a considerable number of UUs do so “under protest” – that is, they’d rather not have to deal with power structures within our movement. Even more so in personal relationships, where feminist and progressive sensibilities presume that partners must be completely equal. Problem is, what if you don’t want to be always equal all the time? If equality is imposed – whether by rule of law or force of habit – how is that better than imposing hierarchical relationships? On the other hand, if the partners in a relationship mutually agree to other models for sharing and entrusting power, and they are happy in such an arrangement, how is that worse than any other?

Lord Acton is famous for the warning: “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely” – and you’ll note the emphasis added. When we consider power as a tool, a means to an end, then we are more likely to use it with balance, and to learn when and with whom it can be entrusted. It is when we see power as an end in itself, even as an entity unto itself, that we run into the dangers we so often fear.

Leather & Grace, Part II: Pushing Limits

This summer is my tenth anniversary when I first entered the realm of kink. I was having a summer fling with a wonderful young lady, when she asked if I would be willing to do some role-play. Not just any role-play, mind you. Dark, edgy, downright scary stuff. And it took quite a bit of convincing to get me there, and more work to process the intense emotional after-effects.

I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

BDSM is not easy. It takes learning not only various skills, but learning about oneself and the connection between what we do and the why behind it all. Still, there is a balance between allowing individuals to choose and affirm what speaks to them, and encouraging them to push their limits.

“Pushing limits” is a common phrase within the world of kink. Often it refers to a skilled top or dominant taking a bottom or submissive to the edge of where they want to go – their “limit” – and then carefully and skillfully “pushing” them just a little further. Yet it can also go the other way, just as my first experience pushed me past a limit I thought I’d never cross.

Limits are important for defining who we are, especially our desires and emotional needs. Yet they are not always so clear cut. We often speak in BDSM circles of “hard” and “soft” limits, and even so-called hard limits can be challenged in the right way. I remember hearing a woman describing her first experience with play piercing, which she had always feared because she expected it to be too painful for her to handle. When it was explained to her how it was actually done, and how the body typically reacted, she decided to try it under the guidance of a trusted and expert top. “Now,” she said, “I can’t get enough of it.”

Apply this ideal of pushing limits to spirituality and ethical thinking, and you have Unitarian Universalism at its best. Our whole history has been about pushing limits, from our early history of questioning Christian doctrines, to our evolution into a diverse and welcoming movement. Yet even with this history, we’re still human and too often fall short of that ideal. Where one limit has been pushed, another comes in its place.

An example of this is when, after describing myself as “heretical even by UU standards,” a young woman replied with wide eyes: “You mean … you’re a Republican?” Hilarious, yes, but what if a Republican or Libertarian who was attracted to our faith found herself surrounded by registered Democrats and Greens? What if a liberal Christian found that the only UU congregation in her area was overwhelmingly Humanist, Buddhist, Pagan, or a mixture thereof?

Such “what-if” scenarios have actually happened, and how we respond is the real test of our faith’s core values. And that includes those of us who engage in heretical forms of sexual expression, who not only push our own personal limits, but by our very existence challenge the assumption of how we may find joy and fulfillment in our relationships and erotic experiences.

It Takes Both Sides to Build a Bridge

Let me begin this post with an apology. If I sound angry, frustrated, or just plain fed up, it has nothing to do with you personally. I’ve been trying to comfort the afflicted for quite some time; now I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s time to afflict the comfortable. If you feel you don’t deserve the harshness of this message, please remember that there are those who do, or who fail to grasp how harsh silence can be. So, with that in mind, here goes …

As I went through the process of formally joining my congregation, I made it clear to the senior minister that I am openly kinky, and that part of my reason for joining was to help build a bridge between the two communities. And I asked her if she and the congregation were ready for that – to see more kinky folks come into the church, even reach out to the BDSM community, so that people on both sides might share their spiritual gifts with one another, and work together for justice and understanding.

She said that she believed that was possible, and that she could see me in that role of bridge builder. It was encouraging and empowering.

And now, I’m beginning to wonder.

Yes, I’ve come a long way. I’ve never hidden being kinky or polyamorous to anyone in the congregation, and they’ve been great about it. I’ve had others come out to me, even thank me for being as out as I am. Others have shown their appreciation for helping them understand sexuality issues better, whether at a Sacred Eros meeting or in private.

Yet there are others who simply do not want to talk about it. I’ve heard of at least one person who left the congregation over it, even though I had offered to answer any questions or concerns they had. And there are plenty of kinky and poly folks who have come to worship services or other events, found it a warm and inviting place, perhaps even a spiritual home, yet remain wary of going any further than “just visiting.”

I’ve heard from other UU kinksters in other congregations, and the news isn’t always pleasant. Many feel they must remain in the closet, because it’s clear that others are not comfortable with their presence. One woman told how she was hauled before a committee, questioned at length, then told to sign a one-sided covenant which would have barred her from so much as mentioning BDSM with anyone else, while the committee could selectively out her to others. Another told me that, after coming out to the new minister in private (as he had done when he joined years before) he was told it “would be for the best” if he simply left.

Granted, there will always be some who refuse to listen or understand. Even when the bridge is clearly before them, they will not walk across it, or welcome any who come from the other side. The real problem, however, is that there’s no bridge to speak of. Those of us who are kinky UUs often feel as though we have to swim back and forth between the shores, while the folks on either side expect us to build the bridge all by ourselves.

So, let me make it plain. Swimming from shore to shore is exhausting. And it takes more than one or a few hardy souls to build that bridge, and certainly not from one side alone. It takes both sides to build a bridge.

Unitarian Universalists cannot simply wait for BDSM folks to swim over. We’re already in your congregations, worshiping and serving alongside you. Many are silent, because they’ve already heard ignorant and fearful things said about them from others in the pews, or even from the pulpit. And the very reason I chose to come out to the members of my congregation is that I know from those silent kinfolk how soul-scarring that is.

That has to end. And, frankly, I can’t do it all by myself, nor can other kinky UUs be expected to do what I do all by themselves. We need ministers, educators, staff and lay leaders to join in. We need you to learn who we really are and what we’re really about. We need you to speak the truth in love whenever someone maligns us out of ignorance and fear. We need to welcome us as our whole selves, to see that the experience of our sexuality carries spiritual gifts worth sharing, and to encourage other UUs to do the same.

The same goes for those in the kink community. I have heard you talk for so long about changing laws and attitudes. Well, to do so will require allies, and you can’t just wait for them to come to you. You need to reach out to UU congregations, leaders and social justice organization. You need to help them understand what we kinksters have to go through. And yes, at the risk of sounding evangelical, you need to go to church, to understand who we are and what gifts we have to offer you.

Our two communities already have much in common, and much to offer one another – but that alone is not enough. The fact that so many UUs are so wary of us kinksters, and so many kinksters are so wary about church, tells me that we need more. We need to devote the time, resources and hard work to building that bridge, rather than assume that it’s already there. We need to realize that those of us with kinfolk on either side of the shore cannot afford to keep swimming from shore to shore. We need the experience of others who have built bridges, or who have enjoyed what has come over them, to lend a hand.

The Great G-Spot Debate: Not That Simple

In the minds of many, it is one of the great mysteries of science. Some say it doesn’t exist, others insist it does, and those who do still debate where it may be.

No, it’s not Atlantis. It’s the G-spot.

According to this British article’s headline, the famed Grafenberg spot is not really there. Well, until you read the article itself:

“While 56% of women overall claimed to have a G-spot, they tended to be younger and more sexually active. Identical twins were no more likely to share the characteristic than non-identical twins.”

Wait a minute. If women don’t have G-spots, how is it that over half of them say that they do?

According to the scientists who did this study, it’s all in their heads. They just think they’re getting stimulated in that part of the vagina, but it’s really just a subjective feeling.

And I’m sure “pro-G-spot” folks are saying that the other 44 percent simply never learned how to locate and/or properly stimulate themselves.

The problem with both of these perspectives is that neither takes into account how diverse is the reality of human perception and sensation. Each person’s sense of smell, touch, taste, sight and hearing can fall along a wide spectrum, from highly acute to none at all. Younger people usually have more acute senses than older; and those who use a particular sense more intensively tend to develop a greater ability to discern more subtle differences.

So why can’t the same reasoning be applied to this part of the anatomy? If so, then it should be no surprise that younger women with more sexual experience would be able to find and stimulate their G-spots better than their older and less experienced counterparts. Not to mention that our sensations and responses to stimuli can change over time and according to various circumstances.

The whole problem with this study is that it reduces this wonderfully complex reality to a simplistic yes-or-no question. As a result, the only way to accept either answer is to deny the reality of nearly half of the women in the survey. But it doesn’t have to be that way. We can see all of those experiences along a continuum, and in so doing cultivate a deeper understanding of – and appreciation for – the rich diversity of human sexual experience.

Hopes for 2010

Happy New Year – or, as my Scots ancestors would say: Guid Hogmanay!

Usually people have looked back on the highs and lows of the past year. Personally, I prefer to look forward, and with hope. So, here’s my list of what I hope to see in the new year…

A new job - My current position is not very inspiring and downright soul-sucking. Would love to find a position where I can use my ability to write and/or teach. I’m still hunting, but as you might imagine, this economy has left slim pickings indeed. Any ideas? Drop me a note!

Equality and justice - Let’s hope that more US states and more countries recognize same-sex marriage. And for President Obama to keep his promises to end “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” and sign a Federal LGBT rights bill into law. Not to mention an end to harassing kinky folks, like the Atlanta police did when they raided the Eagle leather bar. And while I know that it’s a lot to ask for decriminalization, especially with Rhode Island rolling back the clock, at least we could start treating sex workers like human beings.

Health for everyone - We still have a ways to go yet before we get some semblance of health care reform in the US, and it’s more likely than not that the final version will fall far short of what we really need. Millions will still not have coverage, and restrictions on legal abortion will remain in place. But it will still be a step forward, and one can only hope that activists will work to build upon it.

A wider welcome - More and more religious communities have taken steps to welcome and speak up for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender folks. Let’s hope this trend continues, and the circle grows ever larger. But let’s also expand what such welcome and advocacy means. Faith communities can and should consider opening their doors and addressing the spiritual needs of intersex people, polyamorous families, the BDSM and fetish communities, sex workers fighting for their rights, and more

Breaking silence - Almost two years ago, I began Sacred Eros at Arlington Street Church, to provide a safe space for people to talk about sexuality issues from a spiritual perspective. It still amazes me the number of people contacting me from other UU congregations in our area because they don’t feel comfortable going to their minister or pastoral care team. It’s time that changed. Clergy and other spiritual caregivers need to let those whom they pastor know that they can come to them with questions and concerns about the erotic. And if you don’t feel equipped to do so, then please contact the Religious Institute for Sexual Morality, Justice and Healing for information.

Of course, none of this will come about like magic. Such things only happen because we make them happen. And that is my greatest hope of all – that more people join in the work of making the world a better place, sexually and spiritually.

Farewell, Jack McGeorge

It was today that I heard that Jack McGeorge, a leader and educator in the BDSM community, had passed away due to complications from heart surgery.

I never met Jack, but it was hard to ignore him. I had become involved in the kink community a short time after he had been "outed" by the Washington Post as the notorious UN weapons inspector by day and pervert by night.

Except for one thing. Jack never hid his sexuality. He used his legal name instead of a Scene name, and was open about his involvement with Black Rose, the Leather Leadership Conference and other groups to those with whom he worked. When the story went to print, he offered his resignation to Hans Blix, head of the Iraq weapons inspection team -- and Blix refused, saying that his sex life had no bearing on his competence as an inspector and consultant.

Jack was proof positive that being sexually different was no barrier to being respected as a professional and as a human being. His passion for education in the BDSM community was contagious, and will hopefully continue as his legacy.

I never knew Jack McGeorge, but in many ways I feel a similar sense of loss which many other kinksters now feel. May his spirit live on in each of us.

Now This is a Protest I Can Get Into!

You may have read news reports of gays being strong-armed for daring to kiss, not once but twice -- in El Paso and Salt Lake City.

Well, in response to that and other efforts to trample GLBT equality and civil rights -- such as passage of California's Proposition 8 -- activists organized a nationwide "kiss-in".

Right on!

Better yet, it wasn't just gays who participated, but heteros as well. More fitting to show people's hypocritical attitude and moralistic double standards towards.

Opposing marriage equality is one of the biggest. So many churches like the Mormons insist that sex should be confined to marriage, and marriage done for love -- then deny loving same-sex couples access to marriage, even outside of their own churches.

How strange that so many profess love as one of the strongest values of their faith, yet forget love's power to transcend so many boundaries. But maybe, just maybe, someone will see one of these demonstrations of love and be reminded of that.

A Minister of Sexuality? Yes!

I was reading Debra Haffner's latest post from her excellent blog* when something caught my eye. Among the progressive faith leaders joining her in a meeting with White House officials, the United Church of Christ sent Ann Hanson, Minister of Sexuality Education and Justice.

A minister of sexuality?

Absolutely! It's not just that sexuality is an integral part of our lives, with an important spiritual connection. It is that so many religious leaders have either neglected it, or even downright sabotaged it.

Liberals included. So many of us have presumed that being religious liberals means not having hangups about sex, so we don't really need to talk about it. Well, as the Gershwin song says: "It ain't necessarily so." To wit: In response to the Sacred Eros program at Arlington Street Church, I get a lot of contacts from people at other UU congregations because they don't feel comfortable bringing up sexuality with their own ministers.

So yes, we Unitarian Universalists need a minister of sexuality. We need someone who can educate, support, persuade and even cajole other ministers and leaders to address this vital part of our lives.

So if you're a fellow UU reading this post, please consider writing to UUA president Reverend Peter Morales, and putting this proposal to him. With the damage done by "abstinence-only" programs, pervasive homophobia and anti-choice rhetoric and violence, our denomination needs someone who can speak truth to power on these issues, both to the outside world and within our faith movement.

What better way for us to stand on the side of love.

* = If you have not subscribed to Debra's blog, "Sexuality and Religion: What's the Connection?", join me in doing so. She provides great information and insight on these important issues.