Leather and Hyde: Identity: The Who, What, Where, When and How of the Self

Leather and Hyde

Odysseys and Observations
Identity
The Who, What, Where, When and How of the Self
by Debra Hyde

Emotional Spring Cleaning

Not too long ago, in the course of writing some biographical material for my Web site, I became unsettled and restless. It was the kind of restlessness that surfaces when my To-Do List doesn't match my accomplishments, when what gets done doesn't match what I think should get done.

My SM interests and my immersion in leather are probably most apparent and most germane to this column, but they aren't the only elements that constitute me, myself, and I.

My thoughts begged my attention with rallying cries of "What about this? What about that? But... But..." In their persistence, they told me that I had, in essence, said so little in so much. At best, I'd provided Cliff Notes to Me, clues which revealed I'm straight, polyamorous, a switch, a slave, a leatherwoman (maybe), married with kids, a writer. At worst, I'd given lip service to my identity.

Identity. Although it's the stuff of self-awareness, of self-determination, it's also a lifelong process of knowing thyself, where the subtleties of human character and need are always refined, revised, and -- at times -- redefined. And my nagging questions compelled me to sit down and devote some quiet time to a self-appraisal. I took inventory and evaluated myself, and in doing so renewed my self-knowledge, my self-appreciation, my Self.

Obviously, my SM interests and my immersion in leather are probably most apparent and most germane to this column, but they aren't the only elements that constitute me, myself, and I. Sure, they're important facets, but they're one of many interrelated labels, sometimes sparkling together like the facets of a gem, sometimes competing with each other to capture the light. And, like the facets of a gem, they build the character and value of the individual. Here, then, are my facets, both brilliant and fractured. I hope they shine with enough clarity to have meaning.

Item 1: Straight

Well, that word describes perhaps 90% of my orientation and 100% of how I express it. In other words, I'm straight in practice but on occasion bisexual in my dreams. In reality, bisexuality remains uncharted territory for me, and I have explored why I've never embarked on a dual course of action. Reflection has revealed that my same-sex reluctance and confusion spins out of my childhood.

I moved around a lot as a kid and I suffered years of new-kid-in-town torment, 90% of which occurred at the hands of girls. The pecking order was severe, and most of it occurred when I was going through a far-too-early puberty. Later, this scenario would play out to a much lesser degree during my teen years, when girlfriends vied to be the most sought-after. The painful elementary years, followed by insecurity of the early teen years, left me resilient but with much residual confusion about my own gender. Even though I dreamed of strap-ons, pussies, breasts, and tongues, I wasn't trusting enough of women to explore same-sex activity.

My confusion was so significant for so long that it's taken decades for me to even form my basic idea of the attractive woman. Only recently, I discovered she's younger, submissive, and values mature, nurturing guidance. She's inquisitive and sensitive, with an emerging self-confidence.

She's a lot like me at twenty-five.

Deciding this in a vacuum hasn't helped any, either. With men, I formulated my expectations by dating and discovering what I liked and disliked about them.

It would be unfair to engage in any relationship in side-order portions. If I can't do it honorably for everyone involved, then I simply can't do it.

I gathered empirical data, over coffee, at the movies, between the sheets. Had I done the same with women, I would have reached my view sooner. Circumspective thinking has its limitations.

In time, I've come to understand what being bisexual would entail for me, but even with my consolidated view, it will be some time before I explore my bisexual side. Simply put, my life's a full plate of "happy family" with little room for side orders. And it would be unfair to engage in any relationship in side-order portions. If I can't do it honorably for everyone involved, then I simply can't do it.

Item 2: Polyamorous

I've been aware of my polyamorous leanings since I was a teenager, from the very day I fell out of love for the first time and had to look ahead. I realized that love could easily be a serial thing, and if I could love my family, my friends, my pets, and still have room for the love of a boyfriend, then it stood to reason that my heart probably had the capacity to appreciate more than one lover at once.

That early realization doesn't mean I moved through life without confusions, however. If anything, discovering polyamory made maneuvering through the teen culture of the 70s more difficult. That culture urged us to carve our own paths, but to do it without being too outrageous or unconventional. And the conventional thought on sex was "be chaste or be promiscuous, but be horny." It was a convention that seemed to encompass the extremes of a spectrum with little room for middle ground. Not to mention that teens were as judgmental then as now, in their slut-or-prude mentality. I remember more than one encounter of having to debate a virgin acquaintance that having "lost it" didn't automatically make me a slut. And I remember the flip-side as well: having to tell a horny date that I wasn't a plastic prude for being audaciously selective.

But my polyamorous dilemmas didn't end with graduation. As I matured in adulthood and adult relationships, my polyamory began to compete with the fierce sense of loyalty to those I love. The loyalty inherent in monogamy, like the teen culture of prior years, kept me from putting polyamory into practice. In some respects, monogamy was a good thing. It taught me to appreciate boundaries, to work towards fulfillment within them. Plus, it taught me the value of self-restraint and responsibility, something I'm convinced would've eluded me if I had abandoned my sense of loyalty too soon in my life.

Monogamy also taught me to recognize how polyamory operated within me, and that, many times, it would surface for all the wrong reasons. My sexual wander lust would emerge and tempt me when the sexual expression or intimacy in an existing relationship had stalemated.

I did, in three separate periods in my life, use other relationships to avoid facing the problems in my primary relationship. Each time, it caught up with me and damage was done, primarily to me.

My polyamorous drive was symptomatic of a larger frustration in the relationship itself, and knowing what motivated me kept me from using polyamory as a course of action to solve my problems in my life.

For the most part, that is.

Yes, I did, in three separate periods in my life, use other relationships to avoid facing the problems in my primary relationship. Each time, it caught up with me and damage was done, primarily to me. Eventually, in therapy, I realized that I'd probably always have this urge to wander and I focused on whether I could express it in a healthy fashion. For me, healthy meant honest and out of the closet. So I opened the door and used polyamory as a much-needed path to fuller sexual expression, but within the honorable confines of negotiated relationships.

Polyamory isn't easy and I don't recommend it if the thought of it produces more anxiety than happiness.

Enacting polyamory has been worth it to me. My life is enriched, fuller, more rewarding -- which outweighs all the sacrifices and limitations I face in managing more than one relationship.

Certain responsibilities come with the territory. Responsibilities like maintaining fairness and openness, something that's a never-ending duty. Like recognizing and honoring boundaries, and also having the guts to re-negotiate them when they aren't working. Like respecting the other relationships, even in the face of such hardships as illness. When Master was hospitalized with kidney stones, I had to leave the matter to the rest of his family and content myself with the occasional status report from his significant other. He did the same for me when my son was critically ill last year and great demands were placed on my life as mother and wife. It means living with certain limitations in your life as you try to juggle more than one relationship. It also means that you and your spouse will increasingly engage in parallel lives, uniting over a common agenda and providing space for your apparent differences.

But enacting polyamory has been worth it to me. My life is enriched, fuller, more rewarding -- which outweighs all the sacrifices and limitations I face in managing more than one relationship.

Items 3 and 4: A switch. A slave.

I list these items side-by-side because they're my conjoined twins. I love them both and I haven't the heart to separate them. But, like children, they each have their own personality and history.

The switch is the older, more mature of the twins, having come into the world first. The short version of switchhood: I recognized my ability to dominate first, but it wasn't long into my experiences that I realized I'd always had masochistic tendencies, especially in the tit torture category. Still, despite creating bottoming scenarios as a horny teen, despite telling lovers through the years that I liked it rough, I didn't identify as a switch at all until I stepped into the SM arena to bend over for my first spanking. I didn't equate drive and fantasy with identity; I equated doing it with being it.

Where does switching fit into my life today? It exists primarily as a logistical part of my life with Master.

The fact that I had a submissive capacity surprised me to no end, and the fact that my well of submission runs deep still inspires my awe.

He has certain masochisms that must be appeased and I cater to them. Does it affect our dynamic? No. It's a service to him, and one I'm glad I have the capacity to offer it to him. Also, bottoming does not make Master feel submissive; he simply embraces the sensations and finds satisfaction in them. Which works for us.

That said, I didn't expect switching to lead submission. The fact that I had a submissive capacity surprised me to no end, and the fact that my well of submission runs deep still inspires my awe, especially since submission has led to my slowly-emerging identity as a slave.

Yes, the slave is the younger of the twins, born immature but not prematurely, and now it's going through a growth spurt and coming into its own. What makes me identity as slave? First and foremost, Master has a proprietary hold over me, a strong ownership that curtails my freedom and demands my obedience. It can be something as simple as not taking a casual test drive with a TENS unit when it's passed among friends because he's not standing there to grant approval. It can be something as procedural as asking permission to urinate. It can be something as profound as telling someone, "That's Master's decision to make and I can't speculate on what his feelings are on the matter."

Slavery means ceding control in all erotic activity. It means sexual compliance and trust. It means remembering that Master knows my strengths and weaknesses, my lusts and fears. He knows when to push and when to embrace. Being owned means moving through the leather world with Master's expectations ever before me. It means honoring those expectations through deference, honesty, and loyalty. It means advocating the parameters of our Master/slave relationship to others and protecting our relationship from poaching and intrusion.

But our Master/slave relationship is not without its questionable areas. First, we're not 24/7. I must take heart that my heart whispers "slave" even though the overall logistics of my life don't reflect it. Second, Master has some reservations about the term "slave," based largely on a cultural sensitivity to the history of American slavery. He's most comfortable with "pet" -- pets are, after all, loyal, loving and deferential, and they rely on their master for their well-being. This label is, officially, still under review.

Item 5: Leatherwoman (maybe)

You don't know how much I hesitate to apply that label to myself. I'm acutely aware that this accolade is primarily a gay and lesbian term and, as a straight person, I am very uncomfortable appropriating it. Let me say right up front that I will gladly defer to any suggestions from those quarters on this matter.

I am stymied on this one label. I don't know what to adopt that will convey my level of involvement in the SM community while maintaining the respect those labels demand.

BDSM pretty well describes what I do, but it has no legs for describing how I feel about it or how I live it.

For example, calling myself a BDSMer is doesn't work for me. The term has a weekend warrior ring to it and my immersion in this existence is more significant and ongoing than that. BDSM pretty well describes what I do, but it has no legs for describing how I feel about it or how I live it. Lifestyler? Gads, that sounds so yuppified. Besides, what constitutes lifestyle? I'm not 24/7 and I have competing interests and obligations which impact my level of involvement.

Nonetheless, my level of involvement is high and immersive, no matter how elusive the label is that goes with it. I care about the effects of marginalization from a civil rights standpoints and hope for the decriminalization of sex from a privacy standpoint. I care about community, both local and beyond. But my greatest vehicle for contribution isn't in hands-on activism or in religiously attending group functions; it's in my writing There, I dedicate myself on a near-daily basis and the results are this column, my web diary entries, and my fiction.

Because of my immersion in this way of life, I feel emotionally most connected to the word leather. Perhaps someone, someday, will tell me whether I merit leatherwoman status. Until then, let this portion of the discussion show how difficult and limiting labels can be.

Item 6: Married with kids

One word sums it up: Commitment. I love my family and they take up much of my heart and at least half of my time. Weekdays consist of getting the kids out the door, only to welcome them home hours later. Life consists of providing daily, ongoing guidance. It means teaching them to be loving, good citizens, and accepting of diversity. It means overseeing homework and making time for family outings. It means insisting that family night at the movies has a higher standing than a Friday night out or an SM scene.

I love my place in this family and when I think at all of us together, I realize I cherish the image of unity I see before me. I carry a depth of love for my family that's unlike all other loves and, last year, it was tested when my son was ill. I learned that my love for each member of this family runs deeper than I could ever imagine and that it would take something truly horrible to ever compromise that love. I had, in the course of trauma and uncertainty, discovered how unconditional my love for this family was.

Hmmm. Looking over these paragraphs, a second word comes to mind: priority. Family takes commitment and it is a priority. 'Nuff said.

Item 7: A Writer

I've been a working writer since my first job out of college and, except for a few years when the children were really young,

Writing is a greedy creature. It's compulsive and forces me to tell stories, to memoir my experiences, to create a stage where none would otherwise exist.

writing's always been a major part of my life. My identity as a writer is particularly strong, and the act of writing is quite time-consuming. I devote almost all of my time during the day to writing, taking time out only for housework and exercise.

Writing is a greedy creature. It's compulsive and forces me to tell stories, to memoir my experiences, to create a stage where none would otherwise exist. It's also a solitary existence and it makes me a weekday recluse. Where some SM friends and acquaintances spend their time organizing functions and parties, participating in on-line venues, or playing, I'm tucked away in the corner of a room, researching, thinking, and writing.

I pin simple hopes on my SM writing. Simply put, I want to contribute to the body of SM literature that exists today and I want to become well-published and known for that effort. (Talk about pursing an identity!) Beyond that, I must heed my creative drive and follow my inspirations, and nothing would give me greater satisfaction than to look back someday and see that I led a creative life, that I stayed true to my calling.

My identity as a writer runs deep within me. However penniless I may be, however fleeting by-lines might be, however much my creative drive fluctuates, I continue on, dedicating myself to the effort. Writing gives me a personal satisfaction that I haven't found elsewhere, and I achieve some measure of that satisfaction almost every day. To top it all off, I haven't known any other way of existence for twenty years now. If that's not a strong baseline identity, I don't know what is.

Recurring Language

Well, that's the gist of me. I knew this assessment would be an interesting exercise when I started it, but I had no idea it would stretch to almost 3,000 words without any effort. As this piece took shape, I noticed some words reiterated themselves throughout this piece. Like realize, which demonstrates the on-going, puzzle-solving process of building self-awareness; like priority and commitment, which show the complexities of organizing and living one's life; like deference and loyalty, which signify my dedication to Master. And writing, which expresses the very core of me.

The longer these words remain in my personal vocabulary of living, the more embedded these components become in my identity. I'm sure as the years pass, some words might fall by the wayside or they might shift in overall priority. New elements of identity might emerge -- more realizations, if you will. But one thing is certain: identity, however you define it, however you live it, is important. It is, without a doubt, the stuff of life.

About the Author

Debra Hyde is a mostly submissive switch who lives in New England with her husband, two children, three cats, and a dog. She says she is "well-owned and well-loved" by a very special Master, and shares a unique triangle with him and her somewhat submissive husband.

"When England Calls," one of Debra's short stories, graces the pages of the recently published Mammoth Book of Historical Erotica. She is currently working on a number of others, as well as the Great American Leather Novel. Her BDSM work has been previously published on the Internet by Leather Online and Section 12, but Leather and Hyde was her first regular column, originally hosted by About.com's BDSM site and relocated here with her kind permission.

Debra also maintains a personal Weblog called Pursed Lips and can be reached at 75222.2150@compuserve.com... but no junk mail or "Wannas," please.