At the Folsom Street Fair, I really appreciated seeing other black people there with their freak flags flying high. Young black men with harnesses... Older black women with their riding crops...We were in attendance! This was so good to see. It was a sweet confirmation that I wasn't the the only one.
Beyond seeing them with my own eyes, I touched...sniffed...experienced their kink. I felt a tremendous degree of love coming from them. Their faces brightened with the same smile as I approached them. Some took me into their arms and spanked my ass affectionately. Elders look at my semi-nude body with approval and pride. I needed this...deeply. I felt a great deal of relief to finally not be the only black person...to not be a novelty...
To be a black person in this sub-culture, for me, is being a minority within a minority. A very small percentage of African Americans can get into whips and chains...voluntarily. But, at Folsom, I found that it takes a very special individual to be black and perverse. To become so self evolved, shackles and slavery become a new experience, taking on new meanings! I see it as a profound way of expressing that our history does not determine our futures...also, a great way of dominating white slaves fair and square.
|"The Naked Violence" By Mert & Marcus|