Hi, my name is Polthus Xander, and I’m a recovering ass hat.
(All together now) Hi Polthus.
It’s been ten years since I was a complete asshat to a sissy. But I’m not here for a key chain or anything that celebrates my lack of asshat behavior. Because only a douche would want an award for not being a dick. Instead, I came here this evening to speak to those who continue to struggle with asshattary. To those of you still coming to grips with this complex , I just want to say, hey, man…you can do it. You’re better than this. But the–
Huh? Oh,…speak louder. Of course…
But the first step is always the hardest. First you need to acknowledge that your head is up – and I mean way up – inside your ass.
When I was a young man, close contact with sissies made my skin crawl. When one hung out or tried to get chummy, invariably, I’d be an intolerant, abusive prick. But it wasn’t until quite recently that I began thinking through what brought this behavior about and why it changed.
At the time, I only came into contact with sissies at nightclubs and the occasional private party. This was in the mid-eighties, when I made my bones with package runs to locations most of my ‘associates’ couldn’t stand – gay bars. Underage and hungry to get over, these clubs were an oasis. Why? Because unlike many of my other customers, patrons of gay bars never tried to rip me off or kill me. And it was gay clubs where fetish events were often held.
The crowds at these clubs, often contained a diverse and odd-ball mix of people including Dominants, submissive, tweaked-out goth girls, fashion twinks, leather men, transvestites, and sissies. To a select portion of this crowd, I appeared to be clueless ‘rough trade’ and was therefore constantly getting cruised by twinks and tops alike. However, being propositioned all night didn’t faze me one bit. I merely laughed at the pushy ones, smirked at the nice but persistent ones, got paid, and bounced.
Feminized submissives were an entirely different matter. They got under my skin. Night after night, I’d do the backstroke through a sea of freaks. What was it about sissies that made me uncomfortable?
Sissies existed as a feminized reflection of me at a time when both mainstream and alternative cultural texts broadcasted a clear message: being submissive made you less of a man; if you’re sub, you should feel nothing but shame. So if submissive men should feel shame, how much abuse was prescribed for feminized submissives?
Given I was closeted in a hyper-masculine environment, and already insecure about what were already irrepressible urges a submissive guy, the last person I wanted to associate myself with was a submissive who’d been ‘forced’ to dress like a woman to amuse his Mistress. After all, if you buy into the cultural narrative, you’ll stick to the hierarchy as it’s transmitted. And this negative view of myself was only reinforced by all the negativity, assumptions, and abuse I commonly saw heaped upon ‘out’ male submissives at events.
I won’t bother enumerating all of the behavior I witnessed early on; suffice to say, the majority of heterosexual male subs out at the clubs were heavy masochists and into extreme forms of public humiliation. Later on, once I was out myself, I got into numerous confrontations with dominants and submissive of both genders who tried imposing their idea of who I was and how I should act. In the process of staking my claim as ‘not someone to disrespect,’ I gave sissies, and anyone else who didn’t fit my idea of what a male sub ‘should be’ wide berth and the cold shoulder. All the while, remaining completely oblivious as to the deeper reason they creeped me out.
In fact most of what I’m relating didn’t dawn on me until a few weeks ago after I read a post by Furcissy titled “Why I hide.” In this entry, he talks about starting a blog only to find himself “outright rejected by 99% of the submissive male community that didn’t consider themselves to be sissies.”
I have no doubt FC is telling it like it is without exaggeration. This kind of reaction to sissies is ‘the norm’ among most submissive males. And I’m going to guess they’re reaction is quite similar to why I behaved as I did years ago. The idea that they might be lumped into a category with a ‘weak’ and feminized sub male makes men invested in their masculinity bristle.
Telling this group their logic is twisted is most likely a waste. Just as any breath you expended on your humble narrator so long ago would’ve been wasted. Someone will be deaf until they’re ready to hear. In the meantime, this same group will continue to force their dominant exterior down other’s throats until they feel okay about who they are.
This kind of behavior is, of course, isn’t unique to BDSM. In fact, it’s inextricably entwined around what it means to be human. Being iterative social creatures, this kind of contact, conflict, negotiation, and normalization of behavior has kinda’ been what humans do for the last two-hundred thousand years. So while I’m not proud of my behavior in the past nor condone the attitude, the fact sissies have been snubbed is as unsurprising as it is annoying. However, there’s a second component to my youthful disdain I have to own as personal – fear.
Interestingly I didn’t recognize this about my behavior till recently; but we’ve already established I was a knucklehead, right? But given how closely certain kinks I have align with sissies, my venomous reaction was a textbook fear response. As text-book as a frat boy who becomes an outspoken homophobe after his ass is blistered red by his fraternity.
What sissies wanted and what I wanted were just too close for comfort. While the actual flavors of the fetish vary, there’s a high correlation between our desires and triggers at a basic level. A few that stand out: erotic humiliation, orgasms exclusively limited to prostate stimulation and other ‘creative’ ways, and an incredibly close and codependent relationship with a Domme who knows and understand the emotional and physical terrain of her property as no other human can.
So, early on, my reaction to sissies was so strong because their existence was a terrifying reminder of what path I might take. Note the fact that the ‘worst thing’ I could imagine was feminization. Because being seduced, heavily conditioned, and hooked on chemicals before being abandoned as a fifteen-year-old is bad – “but at least she didn’t make me a sissy.”
Yep, that was my logic.
Where did I turn the corner? First, keep in mind, I wasn’t homophobic. Of course, I shared I some of my generation’s ‘straight male bias’ when it came to gay men. But one is hard-pressed to operate in places like Hollywood, California and with these kinds of hangups. After working through all that shit and claiming part of my identity, I felt quite comfortable around gays and bisexuals. And when they’re not being bitter hags, the transvestites I knew on the street were generally fucking hilarious. In short – I’ve always been comfortable around this group because I’m secure in who I am.
So it wasn’t until about a decade ago that I came to understand sissies in a different way. That couldn’t happen until I released a portion of my anxiety about masculinity. Only then could I feel comfortable about who I was and see the absurdity of all the stress, posturing, and hyperventilation.
All that said, do I have anything in common with sissies?
Do they want to be bound, objectified, dominated, and managed by a woman in their relationships? Do they want to be beaten, humiliated, owned, fucked, and loved?
If so, then it looks like we have a lot in common. And because this entry’s running long, I’ll have to save a discussion about the differences – especially when it come to certain kinds of humiliation – for another day. In the meantime, I’d like to invite random reader who’s followed this long-ass post to its conclusion to think about their own biases and ask themselves if some of the behavior and feelings described sound familiar.
If so, I cordially invite such a reader to pull their head out of their ass.
They’ll find it much easier to breathe.