A degree in BDSM? Certified kinky practitioners? Folks looking for continuing education credits to prove that they’re up-to-date on the latest sexual techniques and information? No, I’m not aware of such programs in place today, but I fear some might actually think it’s a good idea. I do not.
Lately, a few people in the BDSM scene have started to put forth the notion of certifying people as BDSM practitioners. The intention is a good one. It makes sense to have people adequately skilled in certain types of erotic play that if done improperly could be dangerous. Knowing someone has the necessary skill to do what might otherwise be potentially risky erotic play brings peace of mind to those who play with them. Training and education focused on such potentially risky sexual endeavors is a good idea.
Some want to take this process a step further by codifying some sort of curriculum that would “certify” someone’s capabilities as a BDSM practitioner. Here’s why I think this is a really bad idea.
The bulk of what makes someone good at sex (BDSM or any other erotic interaction) goes far beyond what can be taught or learned in the traditional sense. Good sex is about the character of the individuals involved. It’s about the level of attraction. It’s about their erotic moods and circumstances. It’s about their sensitivity to the erotic needs of their partner. It’s about how empathic and attuned a partner is to the other. Yes, in some cases it’s about skill and technique. But the other factors I’ve mentioned generally trump skills and techniques in most cases. Ultimately, good sex (including BDSM) is about connection. And you don’t need to be credentialed or certified to connect erotically with another human being.
Classes, workshops and discussion groups are great places to share experiences, insights and tips, but most of what we do in sex is (hopefully) an individual path we’ve paved for ourselves; not some pre-determined worn path dictated by others.
Please don’t get me wrong. When people like Tony DeBlase, a hero of mine, introduced instruction in BDSM skills to anyone who exerted some effort to find the information, I was elated. Knowledge and skills had primarily been passed down within loosely entwined, clandestine networks prior to that time. And not always well. Tony (and perhaps others who I can’t think of at the moment) did everyone who practices BDSM a great service and the scene has been better off ever since.
But the only thing that can really be taught in BDSM is actual physical techniques. How to tie someone up or flog a back safely can be taught, but how to elevate those same activities to good sex can’t. That’s why I’ve encountered folks who were brilliant as newcomer BDSM players. At the same time I’ve encountered others who have been in the scene for a while and taken classes and workshops and can practice BDSM safely, but not necessarily with passion, with connection, and with the clear intention of mutual pleasure.
And what are the dangers when a community looks to a BDSM credential and assumes it means safety and assumes it means competence. Bad players will inevitably get through such a system and graduate to perceived competence. People they play with might let down their guard and avoid some of the usual precautions in light of the certification. I believe each sexual encounter needs to be negotiated in its entirety and that no form of official certification should be part of it. I’m sure some will disagree, but I don’t believe good sex can be certified to be good.
Classes and workshops can produce safer BDSM encounters. Of that I’m convinced. But I fear there is a slippery slope of certifying any form of sex, even the technical aspects, because certification inevitably leads to a perceived sense of overall competence and that could prove harmful. Pretty soon BDSM players will start printing business cards with their certifications listed. Is that really where we want our sex lives to go?
Apart from the profound limitations of any instructional mechanisms to actually create good sex, there is also the true danger of the inordinate enculturation of the kinky community into a particular point of view, personal tradition or approach that the creators of any credentialing system may impose, consciously or unconsciously.
Do we really want our individual sex and erotic play to be so strongly influenced by appointed arbiters of BDSM competence? I most certainly do not.
