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In a Twitter feed that I follow, a question was posed.  It asked if there are any aspects of my lifestyle role that I dislike.

In BDSM terms, I’m a submissive. (Though I occassionally switch for a single activity.)

I answered, “Yes, but that’s on me, no one else.”

My Liege saw my reply and right away wanted to know what I’d meant.

I told him it was hard to verbalize. I should have said that it’s hard to verbalize in a short text. But I tried when he bade me to try.  

I texted, “Remember when I first told you about how I used to kneel by my mother’s living room chair to talk to her? And you pointed out that she was my first Domme, and I said I know?  That wasn’t a happy admission.  I don’t like that what I do outside the bedroom has been conditioned into me from childhood.  I don’t like that I feel like I’m fighting myself sometimes, questioning my own actions.”

My Liege, attempting to process my answer, thought that I have an internal conflict accepting myself as submissive.

But I know that I’m a submissive. There’s no denying it.

No. The conflict is something else.

As a child, sitting or kneeling near Mom’s living room lounger was just normal. She and Dad got the chairs in front of the TV, we kids got the faraway couch or the floor.  But as a teen, when I found myself kneeling next to her chair to talk to her, I realized I looked and felt like some sort of slave or servant, or a pet, in front of some queen.  I fought against it.  I started making a very conscious effort to stand to speak to her. Or to sit at that couch across the room and just project my voice. Anything to keep from kneeling on the floor next to the throne.

While married, my ex would make a half-hearted request for me to do something (fetch him water, make him a sandwich, go get dinner, hurry up and keep up with him) and follow it with an immediate “Thank you,” before I’d even moved. I resented it. I fought against it. Then the guilt card would be played and he’d get what he wanted. I hated that I couldn’t win.

Yet while Gun was visiting, the morning after a fight with my sister, I was moping at my phone (just a little) while he played his Xbox game. I was rereading her texts to me. He stopped playing, took my phone and said, “Get up! Go get dressed.” I didn’t even argue. I stood, I went to my room, and I got dressed. He gave an order, and I followed it. No question, no argument.

And I often do things for Rigger (My Liege) that he doesn’t request. I just do. He’s never given me a command outside the realm of our bedroom/dungeon play… Actually, we’re currently discussing how to add that to our dynamic. Fun, sexy things. And maybe some self-care things, because I sometimes ignore or forget to do those. (What can I say? Life is busy. And I got myself some pretties a couple weeks ago. That counts as self-care, right?)

It confuses the hell outta me, at times. Why do I automatically, happily jump for Rigger and Gun, whether ordered or not, when I dragged my feet with the ex and fought so hard against my mother?  I find myself questioning my…obedience? service?… to two men that I’ve only had in my life for the past year (and some change), when I fight tooth and nail to not behave the same way with people I’ve known for decades? Or my whole life?

Maybe what so many of the memes say is true… submission must be earned.  And so perhaps I resisted submitting to those who expected and/or demanded it and had never earned it?

And perhaps My Liege and Gun earned it by loving me (though my mother loves me, too… so did the ex for awhile…). By seeing and admiring my strength in whatever form it manifests itself, rather than trying to subdue or control it.  And by appreciating my service, rather than expecting it.  And by being willing to do the same service for me if I were in need.

But submission isn’t some reward that I give out to someone like a prize in a gauntlet challenge. It’s part of who I am. I just learned to bury it most of the time.

With everyone else in the world, I often fight against myself. At work, with my parents and sisters, with my ex, even with some of my friends. There are these constant undertones of pressure telling me how to behave, or I’ll be seen as weak.  Among an online Kink group of which I’m a member, there are Doms who applaud their subs for being strong women outside the realm of kink. “She’s not some doormat,” one wrote. “…submissive but not a doormat. I can’t stand those!” Was written by another. And there are even subs who write, “I submit only to my Dom. I don’t let people walk all over me.”

Why is submission outside of BDSM so frowned upon by western society?  I’m not one of those “strong” women. In action, my first instinct is to do, to obey, to serve.

I don’t like being a “bitch”.  I don’t like fighting against strong personalities. I don’t like wielding power that doesn’t involve raffle tickets, pats on the back, or sugary treats. But out there, especially in the world of business, submissives don’t survive long intact. There are too many bullies and Type A personalities who will walk all over me if I give an inch.

So I fight.  I wield the power of my position and my personality. I try to be the “bitch”.   But it doesn’t make me happy.  And sometimes I slip, and someone takes advantage of my first instinct.  Someone manipulates me.  Rigger gets mad when that happens, but it does.

This is the aspect of submission that I don’t like.  That I live in a world where submission can be so socially and professionally detrimental. That it’s not possible to be myself with everyone and still succeed in life.

So where does that leave me?

Maybe what I don’t like about my role isn’t all on me? Maybe it’s on the culture in which I live?

I can be more fully myself with my loves, and they don’t see me as weak, or try to change me. They both want me to be happy.  They don’t earn submission.  Rather, they accept and appreciate it. And they don’t take advantage of it.  And so they’re slowly helping me to balance the struggle against my submissive tendencies.

With them, I can be free.