And people wonder why we're so secretive: The Treatment of BDSM in The Sacred Encounter

The CCAR, the Reform Movement's rabbinic organization, recently published The Sacred Encounter: Jewish Perspectives on Sexuality.  It's a collection of essays and reflections on a variety of aspects of sex and sexuality.  Many people have been excited about this book for a long time--to have something written about sex from a liberal Jewish perspective is something that's been much needed for a while. I know that I'm not alone in being eager to get my hands on a copy and read it.

I haven't finished it yet (at around 750 pages, it might take a while).  But I've read some of the pieces--particularly ones that were of particular interest to me.  So, a full review of the book will have to wait. But I find the need to react to the treatment in the book of BDSM.  Because it's a topic I (obviously) care about.  And to say that I'm disappointed and disheartened would be an understatement.  The essays that are on this topic are "Release from Bondage: Sex, Suffering, and Sanctity" by Rabbi Daniel A. Lenrman, NCPsyA, LP and "Jewish Views on Sexual Fantasy and Desire" by Rabbi Edythe Held Mencher, LCSW.

Of the 2 chapters (out of 49) that are on this topic, neither is written by someone who is kinky.  Both are written from the point of view of psychology.  And while that is a good and interesting point of view, it is not sufficient.  To make a comparison, I wonder what the response would be if the book's entire treatment of LGBTQIA topics were written by straight people who are viewing homosexuality and gender identity from the point of view of psychotherapy.  There isn't even a personal reflection written from the point of view of someone who has experience in any of this (the end of each section of the book contains a selection of personal reflections on the topics covered in that section).  There isn't a personal reflection that touches upon the topic at all, in fact.  From the point of view of the book, it would seem that kinky Jews don't exist or are impossible to find--much less kinky rabbis (if only there were a blog written by 3 of them...).  It would not have taken that much effort to include something from the point of view of someone who actually knows and understands kink in a personal way.

Or at least by someone who has significant knowledge of BDSM, which neither author seems to demonstrate. Both pieces conflate dominance and submission with sadomasochism; while those topics are interconnected for many, they are not the same.  Using the comparison above, it is as if the book were equating sexual orientation and gender identity in its entire treatment of LGBTQIA topics.  In addition, that kink is a sexual orientation is not addressed.  Both articles are written from the point of view that kink is a choice.  While there are those that believe that, neither article articulates that there are many who believe that it is an aspect of our sexuality that is hard wired.

In fact, both articles point out that these desires may be based on pathology (which, while for some people this may be the case, for most it is not).  As Mencher states:

"What for some may be an element of their sexual fantasy and play becomes for others a compulsion that truly limits their capacity to have sexual and intimate lives characterized by tenderness and affection.  If any of us is either experiencing such a sense of being driven and limited in our sexual and intimate life or is involved with a person with whom we experience a coercive or predominantly sadistic or masochistic relationship, it is vital to make use of clinical resources available through psychotherapy to address such issues.  Our goal would be to experience diminished suffering and to be able to experience the full range of human connection that is the Jewish ideal.  Sometimes such a sense of constriction and compulsion reflects traumatic life experiences that we feel forced to relive, and our commitment to freedom and healing out to lead us and others toward more life-affirming paths." (p 707)

In fact, repressing this aspect of my sexuality limited my capacity to fully explore intimacy and made me feel constriction.  There is great tenderness and affection in many d/s relationships and even in sadomasochistic play.  And embracing my submission and my masochism has been extremely life-affirming.   This statement by Mencher encouraging reparative therapy indicates a lack of understanding of how (at least some) individuals come to these relationships and what those relationships look like.

Similarly, Lehrman writes in a footnote, "...One influential interpretation of masochistic desire sees it as a response to abusive treatment in childhood, during which a person may learn to gravitate toward punishing others because he or she knows intimacy only through punishment and severity, not through tenderness.  For an overview of the history of understanding sadomasochism, see Theodore Millon, Disorders of Personality (New York: Wiley, 1996), chaps. 13 and 16."(p 724)  He then goes on to define pathological masochism and sadism, citing the fourth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM 4), without acknowledging that the DSM 5 no longer classifies masochism or sadism as mental disorders (they are now in the category of paraphilias).

Instead, it would seem, the main basis for understanding BDSM relationships for both authors is from having read 50 Shades of Grey, which both pieces describe. Which makes both articles hopelessly tied to this period of time (I highly doubt that the trilogy will have any cultural relevance in 5 years).  It also indicates a lack of knowledge of the kink community, which by and large has viewed the book as a horribly flawed and somewhat problematic description of What It Is That We Do (WIITWD).  That a book series written by someone who also has no personal experience of BDSM (which is clear from her descriptions in the book and she has stated) is what informs the authors' view of BDSM relationships is both troubling and indicative of the views expressed in the pieces--and the lack of understanding that the pieces reflect.

While I found Lehrman's description of Emmanuel Ghent's comparison of surrender and spirituality to be quite compelling, it also proved inadequate.  First of all, the piece he describes and analyzes is titled, "Masochism, Submission, Surrender: Masochism as a Perversion of Surrender," and thus starts from a point of view that is problematic (not to mention that his main citation is an article published in 1990, a time when the internet essentially and practically did not exist and at which our attitudes towards sexuality were vastly different).  But what was both more interesting and ultimately more lacking for me was his discussion of Jewish mysticism and meditation as forms of surrender.  I  found this comparison compelling--and in fact, the state that he describes as the goal of the mystics, is an excellent description of sub space.  I thought this was a great insight, but it is one that I came to on my own because there is no such comparison made in the article.  That he does know that term, or even that idea, is indicative of his overall understanding of submission--or of the subtleties of submission and surrender, the difference between topping and bottoming and dominance and submission.

While I find some comfort in the fact that both pieces ultimately state that we shouldn't entirely reject kink, I also find disappointment in the fact that this seems to be a concession.  Mencher instructs us that limited kinky play can be a healthy expression of sexuality, but that we should limit those desires and strive toward mutuality.  As a kinky individual, I read this as saying we should all be switches and a d/s relationship is unequal. As someone who identifies as submissive, I read this as saying that my sexual orientation is not acceptable.

In his conclusion, Lehrman writes that just like we accept that King David's lust and murder; Jacob and Rebekah's deceit and fraud; Simeon and Levi's, "berserk, heedless vengefulness" (p 723); and the Book of Joshua's genocide are all aspects of who we are as a people and as people, so should we accept BDSM. To him, BDSM is about about sexualized violence and violent sex.  So when he states, "And what Torah gives us again and again is not the Ought but the Is--what we really are..." I believe he means that we need to accept that such violent tendencies are a reality.  But when I read that, I feel that it's telling me that I'm inherently flawed, and only accepted in the sense that we accept those who have this behavioral tendency, despite that flaw.

In addition, in his footnote in which he addresses the actual question of if BDSM is an acceptable form of sexual behavior from a Jewish point of view, he rejects the notion that it is exactly consensually that marks the difference between play and abuse (an idea that is widely accepted within the kink community) stating, "It is naive, therefore, to hold that mutual consent provides a clear and straightforward guideline for evaluating the moral dimensions of sexual behaviors." (p. 726)  He fails to recognize that it is exactly through pain and humiliation and (previously agreed upon) force that some find great satisfaction.

Both pieces take the attitude of assuming that submission comes from a place of weakness and not empowerment--and do not indicate that a consensual relationship between dominant and submissive is equally satisfying for both parties.  And because both articles do not differentiate between d/s and s/m, neither fully addresses power exchange.

While I applaud the CCAR for including this topic at all, I can't help but wonder if it is included as the last 2 chapters of the book because it was an afterthought.  That perhaps because they didn't realize until 50 Shades took off that they would have to address this topic, they just put it in at the end.  That they didn't have time to do any research to include a personal reflection on kink or to find a Jewish sex therapist who is accepting of (and understands) BDSM.  I am happy the topic was addressed, but I wish it went further.

So while I'm glad it's there, I'm also disappointed in how it's there.  When I read these articles, I realize how far we are as a society from accepting BDSM.  And that makes me sad--it's a painful reminder of why I keep my identity a secret.  Why few people who know me because of my kinkiness know that I'm a rabbi.  Why I am careful to not connect this profile with other kink profiles.  Why there are very few people who know me in my professional life who know about this aspect of my being (and most of those who do know are either kinky themselves and/or people I've been in relationship with).  Because people don't accept BDSM.  It's still societally considered other, and far enough removed other that it is ultimately rejected and stigmatized too often.

That the Reform Movement, a progressive movement known for its acceptance of diverse people (especially in terms of sexuality), has underscored this message of otherness is, honestly, disappointing.  I'm not disappointed in the movement per se, but in the fact that we are so far removed from acceptance that even the Reform Movement isn't there yet.