It’s not uncommon to hear leather folk speak of a spirituality that arises from their life- and play-style.  But if you are not among their ranks you might wonder what they are talking about. 

After all, non-players are unlikely to understand how enema punishments can bring you closer to the divine.

Irrevocably tied to faith—something which, by definition, can neither be proved or disproved—spirituality inspires passions, giving it the power to create and destroy, to bind or tear apart.  In recognizing (or implying) the dichotomy of body and mind, and of body and soul, spirituality is a thorny topic in general that becomes even more so when tied to secular pleasures. 

Because so much of Western religious philosophy eschews physical pleasures as profane, the idea of marrying spirituality and sexuality can appear to some as preposterous as the wedding of Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley.  Or at least Liza and David Guest. 

To non-leather-believers, the relationship between a good beating and the divine is as inconceivable as the concept of an immaculate conception is to non-Christians. 

So what is it about the leather lifestyle that would generate so much talk of spirituality?

Generally speaking, people who identify as spiritual (regardless of whether they identify as religious) believe they have a connection to a power greater than themselves, and that this connection creates for them an emotional experience that might manifest itself in many positive ways, from a sense of religious awe and humility to Ecstatic well being and harmony.

Like any other religious crusader, we want to share the Word.  And boast.  Feel joy now; ask me how.

As I see it, spirituality is very individualistic, and it is natural that many kinky folk and other “outsiders” choose to recognize their relationship with a higher power in a manner that falls outside of an established, religious dogma.  Especially given how many religions’ laws denigrate the value of our minds and bodies and proscribe physical pleasures for the mere purpose of physical pleasure, spirituality and kinky folk fit like hand in (leather or latex) glove.

For some of us, spirituality replaces religion (by which I mean established, organized religion) and for others—myself included—spirituality is tied to, but not intrinsically a part of religion.

I sometimes refer to myself as a “cafeteria Jew,” because I choose the tenets of the faith that are meaningful to me and follow only them.  I honor the Jewish laws that make sense in my heart and whose basic values I share; I discount those which don’t.   For instance—I don’t keep kosher, but I do eat sitting down.

 

When someone questioned why I followed the Jewish law of sitting down when taking a meal, I explained that it’s not that I believe He will smite me if I eat a bacon cheeseburger while standing up.  But slowing down, taking the time to enjoy the meal, recognizing that a life was lost for my nourishment, brings me more in the moment, makes me more aware of my actions and my responsibility to the world, and more grateful for my blessings and respectful of those around me.

In this regard, my spirituality loosens the ties of religious dogma and makes my faith more personal and more open to outside ideas and influences.  I share some common values and beliefs with other members of my faith, and this sharing makes me feel an emotional connection to them, just as common values and beliefs with some members of the leather community make me feel closer to them.  This is the basis of community, after all.

But I also have a personal relationship with this higher power that’s different from all others; because this relationship is based on my own belief system, my connection to the divine is unique, no greater or lesser than others’ connections, but intrinsically different.  And that connection changes the way that I interact with the world around me.  And it makes it better. 

(Hopefully this makes sense even to the non-spiritual, who experience better sex with partners with whom they feel a connection.)

Of course, this is not to say that every time that I have sex I feel a great spiritual connection.  Sometimes in the middle of the night I just want to feed my boy’s hungry mouth to release some tensions, roll over and get some rest.  (Besides it makes for some sweet dreams for us both.)

But in my experience, when I’m having an exceptionally good time—which only happens when I’m connecting to someone on a deep and personal level—there is a sense of transcendence of myself.  During these sessions, the orgasm isn’t the climax of the scene, but the connection that I feel with that other person. 

During spiritual sex, we open our hearts and minds to the moment.  We appreciate more than the physical pleasure during the animal act.  After all, most animals fuck, but I doubt the platypus has ever experienced Nirvana. 

Whether “body worship” is invoked or not, I view spiritual sex is a celebration of who we truly are, not only of our physical shells but of the souls that propel us forward.   Spiritual sex makes our bodies feel good, yes, but also our spirits.  Personally, I believe we are all manifestations of a higher power, and any acts which join us together makes us even more open to and a part of the universe.

At the risk of sounding too metaphysical (or like someone experiencing an acid trip), there are occasions when I have played with my boy, exploring my emotional limits or his physical limits, when I feel like I am watching our moment together from an outsider’s perspective.  I know what is going to happen even before it happens.  At these moments, although traversing new territories, I lead scenes with confidence, feeling safe and assured, already knowing and understanding my path to get us exactly where we want and need to go.  And I know when we arrive at the end of that path, we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

We are in harmony with our true individual natures, with each other, with the world at large.

It sounds like love, and I’m sure it is.  In my peculiar and somewhat old-fashioned spirituality, God is still love.

In these moments, I not only feel close to my boy, I feel like a part of my boy… and that he is a part of me.  In these heightened states, we are complimentary parts of the same energy, feeding each other’s energies and creating something greater than both of us combined.   Jerry Maguire may have said, “You complete me” as a line to preclude genuine intimacy, but spiritual sex suggests, at least for me, that we’re all interconnected and need one another to feel our whole human potential. 

It’s this seeming contradiction of being our own men, complete on our own as individuals with distinct preferences and unique tastes, and yet, even greater when we’re together, that makes these connections so powerful.  This profound connection, even more than the orgasms, keeps bringing us back together. 

The orgasms are just icing on the metaphysical cake.

The energy, the love, the trust, the connection that is forged when we have those moments of true power exchange and boundary pushing makes us somehow more than we were before.  It also seems to me that sex with spirituality makes us better people; the connection that is made makes us more aware and more grateful for what we’ve been given, and with that realization is a sense of responsibility to the world around us. 

Don’t get me wrong-- I have nothing against sex just for the sake of getting off.   It’s fun and it’s easy. And, for me anyway, it requires less energy.  And these days I’m often experiencing an energy shortage.

But when we can take the time and forge those connections, there’s something to be said for the long-lasting pleasures that can be found and built upon when we allow spirituality into the bedroom (or playroom).

There’s something to be said for taking the time to know your partner’s mind and heart, for appreciating the gift of their power or their surrender, for the pleasure they are offering and accepting.

Sex with spiritual connection may or may not end with an orgasm, but it always leaves me feeling physical satisfaction, emotional connection and increased energy.   In contrast, I often find that sex without spirituality may be enjoyable but it leaves me physically fatigued, sated but mentally unengaged if not exhausted. 

Good sex might lead to a nap; spiritual sex will lead to another round.

After winning the Mr. Philadelphia Leather 2008 title, I was given some great advice by both the contest producer, Jim K-Z, and the contest sponsor, Jim Madden, owner of the Bike Stop bar.  The advice was simple: Have fun!

Pretty easy, huh?

Within days of the contest, I received invitations to events where I could “represent” the community and support (or organize) fundraisers for various causes.   And initially I wanted to do it all… to “represent” as a goodwill ambassador in badass Nasty Pig gear, yes, but also to show off the medal and title vest.  

In fact, not being one who believes in moderation, within days of the contest I not only had my title patch sewn onto a vest, but I put plans into motion for a Scott Daddy bobble head doll… well, it was either a bobble head or a Pez dispenser, and I would have been disturbed by the image of people giving me a tracheotomy for a sweet and tart treat.

When the bobble head doll arrived around the holiday season, my mischievous boy, eryc, aptly remarked that it was especially ridiculous, given that my head doesn’t generally bob up and down.  We all had a good laugh over that—things are funny when they’re based on truth.

But I love the outrageous silliness of the doll, which was modeled on one of the victory photographs taken at the contest.  It is a fun thing to have and, I think, shows that I didn’t take myself so seriously all the time. 

In hindsight, I probably moved so quickly in my celebrations to convince myself that it all really happened.  Talk about reversal of fortune!

When I attended my first leather run with my boy, we were completely rejected.  The event was the American Brotherhood Weekend 2003, held at that time in the Washington Plaza, the same host hotel for Mid-Atlantic Leather (MAL).   The lobby was filled with titleholders and their friends and their chasers.  I distinctly remember how it felt to extend my hand out to these leather folk, to introduce myself, and to be ignored or disregarded.  Some folks acknowledged me and my boy then turned away; others wouldn’t even accept our hands for a simple shake or say hello.

Our experience there was that only titleholders were truly welcomed.  I questioned whether it was worth exploring the community at all.  Would I need to be a titleholder to be appreciated?  And if I did, what did I have to offer (besides being someone a little more friendly than what I’d encountered)?

Luckily I made friends in the Philadelphia area—the first being Jim K-Z, who at the time was the reigning Mr. Philadelphia Leather.   Through email correspondence, get-togethers at the Bike Stop and at friends’ homes, he showed me the unique spirit of brotherhood that the Philadelphians MC and their friends fostered. 

Although I didn’t think that their club was right for me—they were too drag-centric and not nearly kinky enough for me—I genuinely enjoyed their company when I attended their events.  Who wouldn’t get a kick out of watching leather men recreating Dreamgirls or a poolside tribute to the films of Esther Williams with synchronized diving?  It was absurd and surreal, which I could appreciate more in others than in myself.

When Jim first contacted me about participating in a kinky carnival fundraiser, I agreed to do some violet wand play.  It took a little bit of time (and liquor) for folks to warm up to me, but shortly after 11pm there wound up being a line!   I began to build a reputation for electro and, later, fire play. 

Although I never really developed great social skills or the ability to schmooze, it was quite exciting and a boost to the ego to have people waiting in line to take off their clothes and get zapped by me.   Now this was community service that I could get into!

Later I was asked to offer a little lecture and hands-on demonstrations for the kids at the University of Pennsylvania.  How could I resist?  I couldn’t.  (But I did refrain from asking them to remove clothes when I realized that not only could I be their Daddy, but I was old enough to be their father.)

One year Jim invited us to a Halloween party being held by friends of his.  As it turns out, the couple were college professors in the field of human sexuality… and before I knew it, we became close friends and they asked my two partners and me to speak to their class about polyamory and life in a triad relationship.  Of course, that invitation came after they, as qualified subject matter experts, informed us over dinner that size really does matter. 

According to the experts, girth is more important than length.  My husband and boy agreed and felt validated.  I had been wrong on this matter, but was happy to hear the news. 

At any rate, suffice it to say that prior to being a titleholder, even though I still wasn’t in with the “in crowd,” my feet were already wet when it came to leather play and public presentations.  Right or wrong (and it’s probably wrong), I felt validated in my win. 

I was ready to enjoy the rewards that come along with the pageant circuit.  I was ready to kiss hands and shake babies and judge chili cook-offs.  And I did… well, except for the babies. 

So where did the fun go? 

Well, being someone who is prone to take himself entirely too seriously, I managed to forget the sage words of advice by my double dose of Jims.

Instead of continuing to enjoy the fun that led me to the contest, I discovered a sense of obligation to participate in events and to get involved, to organize, to make financial contributions, etc., even where no obligation truly exists.   Ironically, this sense of obligation came primarily from other titleholders, not from the greater community. 

It seems so many title holders out there—at least, some of the more vocal ones—have a profound sense of purpose.  They act as if their titles were received through divine providence and not awarded by a panel of judges; as if their perceived popularity and appointment represented some kind of calling by a higher power and didn't simply represent popular reactions to enthusiastic crotch-nuzzling during 50/50 sales. 

In short, many titleholders feel an unrealistic sense of entitlement and, consequently, inflated self worth and importance.  Some forget that there is no inherent power or worth that comes with being a titleholder, and that the only true value to a title comes from what the titleholder brings to it.

There is a danger here not only that titleholders come off as arrogant (which may or may not be true), but that we lose our joy in how we work with our respective communities because we take this self-importance so seriously as we crusade for whatever our particular cause might be.

On their surface, the actions of many titleholders seem completely altruistic as they take on their mission to build community, to educate and to raise funds.  

I applaud these noble aims.  I know it is hard work and, admittedly, I haven’t been terribly successful in my mission.

But since becoming a titleholder, I have found that most of my interaction has been with other titleholders, and not my local community.  Instead of playing and teaching and learning along with my comrades, I listen to bitching and pontificating from folks not involved within my local community.  We get so wrapped up in high pursuits that we sometimes lose patience with each other and resort to our more base natures.

In truth, I've heard some real wisdom from some titleholders.  But also lots of proof that superegos are usually super damaged egos. 

And it didn’t take long for me to perceive (rightly or wrongly) that many events that appeared to be about fundraising or community building, were really only platforms for self promotion and aggrandizement, and opportunities to build up friends/supporters’ public personas while dismissing others.

Such a waste of energy.

It may be a slight exaggeration to say that if a certain titleholder farted at a public event, there is a class of titleholders ready to send a note of congratulations on a yahoo group proclaiming it was the most beautiful music ever heard.  And, inevitably, another titleholder who proclaims himself (or herself) a dinosaur will chime in and quote his (or her) self about another crap in the woods that took place 18 years before.  And then another dialogue will start about how life was so much better 18 years ago, how the community was so much tighter then, more fun, more this and more that… 

Reading these threads makes your head hurt and your heart ache. 

I've heard complaints that attendance at leather events in general seems to be going down, and that it’s getting harder to find people to compete these days in leather contests. 

Perhaps that’s because it’s just not fun being around many of these people, unless you enjoy laughing at the pathetic. I don’t (unless I’ve had one too many Kettle One with a splash of cranberry and a dash of lime.)

There is often a sense of righteousness among titleholders about serving the community that borders on (and sometimes crosses the line into) rude.  I don't know if it's based on overflated egos or over emphasis on the importance of building community, etc., but you quickly get the sense that if you don’t do as much as they do, if you don’t know as much as they do, if you haven’t raised as much money as they have … then you are nothing. 

And if you try to speak up for yourself, you’re called a hypocrite for having values different than their own.

Does that sound like a fun crowd to you? 

Egad, I’d rather have a full-body 40-year-old virgin wax job – including on my furry crack -- than to hang out with most “leather leaders” these days. 

(This is not to say that I’m opposed to all title circuits or all titleholders.  In fact, there are several friends that I love as extended members of my family who happen to be titleholders or past titleholders.  But I love them for who they are, not what they are or what I think they should be.)

It’s clear to me that there is a disconnect between many titleholders, who want to tell their communities what to do and what really matters to them, and the people that they ostensibly represent.

According to Wikipedia, the word community is derived from the Latin word communitas, meaning the same, and communis, meaning “common, public, shared by all or many.”  Today when we refer to social communities, we mean people who share similar characteristics or values. 

If we follow that definition, it seems to me that there is a community of titleholders and there is a general community of kinky and leather folk, and that they are separate.  There may be overlap between us, but there are also plenty of values and mores and attitudes that keep us apart.

It was a revelation to discover that I was always a part of the leather community, whether I felt like a part of it or not.  And that simply being a titleholder doesn't necessarily put me in that titleholder community.  I share more in common with the leather man on the street than a sash queen who believes he has the right and obligation to tell others how to think or how to feel or the self-important diva behind a microphone who insists on her own importance (and who insists that others are ignorant if they don't accept her importance).

We know what happens when so-called leaders decide what to do and don’t listen to the people that they are supposed to be serving.  The results can be disastrous.  One need look no further than Washington and Iraq to see the consequences.

Fortunately in our case, the results of bad leadership in the leather community are not fatal.  But they may be killing off what's been so special about our community. 

The trick to leadership is actually listening to those around you, considering their wants and needs, and then determining how to help everyone to get where they want to be.  The trick is not strong-arming or shaming others to do your will.  That is, and always will be, bullying.

And the punchline of this tragic comedy is that, for the most part, the general leather community—those folks who share common interests and values—aren’t looking to be led.  They have no need to be led.  Where would they be led to? 

At best, perhaps, a play party (although probably not in Philadelphia).  And at a play party, a pretty titleholder would probably be a cock blocker. 

But when you consider the common interests and values of the general leather and kink community -- we like to get geared up and to get off -- there's not a lot of important stuff that "leaders" are needed for.  So while a community at large might appreciate efforts by leaders to educate the courts and the hospitals and the police about what is abuse and what is consensual BDSM play, that’s not why they themselves come together. 

For most leather folks, getting together is not about lobbying for legislation or promoting programs for organ donations.  By and large, leatherfolk just want to have fun.

If my observations and perceptions are not completely off-base, it’s reasonable to ask how did leather leadership community come to this state and how can we get past it?

I have a theory that will probably be considered controversial and offensive.

The leather community can be proud of its response to the AIDS crisis in the 1980s and ‘90s.   We lost many great leaders and potential leaders, and survivors often were heroic in their support.  But AIDS transformed the leather community from motorcycle clubs and the burgeoning leather bar and bathhouse businesses (where sex and sexuality were indulged in hedonistic glory) to an environment where we got together as caregivers and as fund raisers to support those in need. 

When AIDS was decimating our community, urgency by leather leaders to respond was great, and the community response appropriate. 

We came together to bury our fallen and to organize politically and to cook nutritious meals, not to celebrate our sex.   We didn’t have time for sex in many cases.  In some cases, we were almost apologetic about sex.  And in still other cases, folks who didn’t contribute to the fight against AIDS were considered to be aiding and abetting the enemy. 

Unfortunately many of the folks who remember those dark days, and folks who came out into leather later but were mentored by folks who remember those days, are still fixed into that same groupthink.  The desperation to teach, to lobby, and to raise funds is still there-- and it turns our social gatherings today into work, into events with purpose, into causes.

Although the socio-political climate and health crises have changed, our community dynamics have not.  When you get a call from a titleholder or leather bar, you can pretty much expect it’s about a fundraiser.  This is now how we relate.

It is as if, collectively, we’re afraid to emotionally let go of our history.  Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, but it seems like so many of us won’t stop looking back for fear of dishonoring our dead.

Do you need proof of this?

Consider that among the 2008 Pantheon Award nominees were a number of candidates that aren’t even alive—in at least one case, a nominee hasn’t been alive for over a decade.  And as I understand it, at least one of the dead nominees actually won over the living.

What does this tell us about how the nominating community and Pantheon judges view the scene today?

And frankly, when the non-leadership community (non-titleholders and the leather-curious) want to do something leather oriented, they are looking for fun and games, not work and not a cause that will tug on their heart strings.

The pioneers of the modern gay leather world—men who left the service after World War II and joined travelling motorcycle clubs rather than returning home and living conformist lives—did not congregate for irritable bowel disease fundraisers.  They came together as a group because they enjoyed each other’s company.  Whether their play was public or behind closed doors, they got together because they wanted to be with each other, because they enjoyed the company of like-minded men.

There’s a lesson here that we can learn (or relearn) from them.    

 

It’s not that I disapprove of fundraisers.  They are needed, necessary, and are occasions to bring us together.  But every public occasion does not need to be accompanied by emotional baggage.

And I’m not necessarily talking about returning to Old Guard values or comparing them to New Guard or The Next Generation. 

What I’m talking about is our need to understand or remember why we get together.  Our forefathers appreciated one another because it was rare to find kindred spirits.  With the growing popularity of kink and fetish images in popular media (like Madonna’s Hard Candy album) and adult entertainment and adult online communities, we take acceptance of our kinks for granted.  Instead of being grateful that others are out there, we’re annoyed that they’re not perfect in meeting our expectations or hopes.

If we’re going to look back at the old days and theorize what made the advent of leather clubs and bars so glorious, it wasn’t the arrogance of a title system or the dollars raised for a charity.  And, yes, education took place back then, but not by formal groups that sought to offer globally recognized certification programs.  What made the good old days good was the bond that we created with each other, and the joy that was to be found just by experiencing each other’s company in whatever way felt good.

Somewhere along the line, we seem to have forgotten that stroking each others’ egos is not as much fun as stroking each other, and that striking emotional blows to one another is not as fun as other kinds of blows. 

Blood play is exciting to some, but verbal bloodletting is not cool when safe words are not established.

When most of us think about what it means to be a member of the leather community—whatever tribe or clan we happen to think we fall in—I doubt that most of us think in terms of fundraising or education.  But that’s what brings most of us together these days.

The owner of Chaps in San Francisco doesn’t allow fundraisers at his bar.  He won’t even allow a microphone there.  No announcements are allowed.  He wants to preserve a space that’s sexy and exciting for the men who enter, and no distraction from the purpose of cruising or enjoying the company of other masculine and like-minded men.  

Could that be the right direction? 

Some like to think that the golden age of leather is over because there is a golden haze of nostalgia over the 1970s and early 1980s.  But time moves on, and we have no choice but to move along with it.  It’s up to us to make another golden age.

It’s time for us to remember why we all came together in the first place—because we enjoy the company of other people with fun fetishes and kinks. 

It’s time for us to leave our egos at the bar doors, at leather runs and events, and within online communities and lists. 

It’s time for us to realize that if it’s not fun, we’re either doing something wrong or doing the wrong thing.

As we enter into the dog days of summer, I hope that we can start to put away the pettiness that has dominated so many leather discussions, not only locally but nationally. 

Let’s forget about past successes that might make us gloat and about past gripes that might make us resent one another.  Let’s just enjoy the heat, the exposed flesh, and the opportunities to connect with other another. 

We don’t need fundraisers as much as fun raisers (or flog raisers); we don’t need lectures about negativity as much as we need lectures on and opportunities to play more safely and more creatively.

 

If we channeled our energies in this manner, we might just find that our communities will build themselves; that responsible play will organically grow as educated players share their experiences by playing with newcomers and others; and the support that we sometimes find ourselves struggling to find through various dramas will come to us on its own accord and in generous bounty, like good karma.

Enjoy your summer.  Get out, get hot and get off, and reconnect with why you came out into leather in the first place!

Mark Frazier has been heavily involved in the BDSM scene for over 20 years and has been an active and very visible part of the national leather scene for the past 20 years as an activist, player, judge, educator, and producer of events and contests.

He is the co-owner of SouthPlains Leather Event as well as the International Master / slave contest, Mr Texas Leather Contest, and the International Leather Sir/boy & Community Bootblack Contests. In 2007, he retired after 13 years of owning the Dallas Eagle and Dallas Woody’s Sports and Video Bar.

He has been awarded many awards including: Pantheon of Leather's Man of the Year 1996, Pantheon's Reader's Choice Man of the Year 1995, 2002 Lifetime Achievement Award – NLA International, Pantheon’s South Central Award for 2004, Pantheon’s Lifetime Achievement Award in 2006.  He is a proud long-term member of NCSF, NLA-International, NLA- Dallas, Discipline Corps and an Associate Member of the Chicago Hellfire Club.

I had the pleasure of meeting Mark through a mutual friend while travelling to Dallas for business.

While munching on nachos over a Mexican dinner, Mark talked with us about all sorts of varied topics.  When it came to discussing play piercings and blood sports, it was fun watching the shock on our unusually attentive wait staff's faces. 

He also mentioned having produced a documentary film a few years back.  I told him that I was eager to take a look... and I'm sure glad I did.

"Out of the Darkness," which runs about 37 minutes long, was a video response to comments made by a mental health professional who deemed the leather lifestyle to be sick and perverse.  The goal of the film was to disprove that medical professional's theory that people who engage in our kinks are inherently dysfunctional.  

This video was a labor of love for those who made it.  It was created for individuals within and outside our lifestyle, in hopes that it would better help others to understand our lives a little more.    

For a change, we're not being exploited or sensationalized.  Our lives and kinks are portrayed in a rational, level-headed way.  Instead of SM being demonized, our issues and concerns are represented honestly and reasonably.  And how nice to see diversity represented in terms of gender, orientation and race!  

I hope you find this video useful, helpful, and thought-provoking.   If so, I also hope you will consider making a donation to the Leather Archives and Museum in its name "Out of the Darkness" on the LA&M website, through their online store.

http://www.leatherarchives.org/giftshop/

Happy viewing, and I look forward to your comments about this video!

 

Regards,

Scott

 

On top of all the other wonderful Philly news and happenings I got to mention in my July 1 column/podcast, I'm pleased to congratulate my friends Andy Liu and Steve "boyshark" Mercer on their wins this past weekend as MidAtlantic LeatherSIR and Leatherboy, respectively.  The contest was held July 4 weekend at the Bike Stop.

By virtue of this win, Andy and Steve will advance to the annual International LeatherSIR, Leatherboy and International Community Bootblack Contests 2008, which will be held October 9-12, 2008 at the Historic Hotel Whitcomb in San Francisco, CA.

The new owners of the contest are looking forward to establishing the titles as one for players and educators within our communities.

The judges for the international competition are: Nikitas Chondroyannos from Chicago IL, Tony Buff from Seattle WA, John Pendal from the UK, Woodie Barnes from Florida, Mr. Marcus Hernandez from San Francisco CA, Queen Cougar from San Francisco CA, boy alex from Toronto Canada, Master Mike Zuhl from Pittsburg PA, Mike Russell from San Diego CA and Ms. Kendra from Indianapolis IN.

To learn more about the judges, download registration applications, register online and pay via credit cards or view the list of workshops, activities and contest info, check out their website at www.LeatherSIR.com.

 

Years back when the City of Philadelphia was looking at a new tourism slogan, it was leaked to the press that one (presumably joking) slogan proposed was “Philadelphia: It’s Not as Bad as You Think.”

I laughed out loud at the report back then—all the while thinking how apt it was (because Philly is actually a great town and a great location, and we rarely appreciate it for all that it has to offer).   About three-quarters into my title year, I cannot help but think that the tongue-in-cheek slogan applies to our local leather community as well.

Although the Greater Philadelphia area leather community has a reputation for in-fighting and eating its own (a reputation that we foster and sometimes – disturbingly – seem to take pride in), the good news is that we’re not as bad as we think.

So why would we choose to think poorly of ourselves and our current situation?   I have a couple theories.

One of the lessons I learned a couple years back when training for a Black Belt in Six Sigma (an operational excellence program designed to identify and reduce variations in process) was that we tend to focus on and hold onto the negatives (a defect, abnormality, problem, etc.), particularly if they have an impact on our work or our lives. 

At the time of that corporate training, I was going to tackle a project to reduce calls to our Hagerstown customer service group about online-access issues for our medical journals.  The call center had reported anecdotally that the majority of their calls were about online access; by addressing this issue, that is, making it easier to access the medical journals online, they believed, we would make a tremendous impact on customer satisfaction and employee morale.

One of the first things we did on this project was establish a baseline count of these calls (to prove whatever solution we put into place was working).  We created a system to track and quantify the calls coming into the center about online access issues.  As it turned out, the call volumes about this issue were not nearly as large as the customer service reps had led themselves to believe.  The mere fact that these calls are annoying and tedious influenced how the staff viewed the impact on their workflow.  They honestly believed it was a much bigger problem, but their own numbers proved them wrong.

It is, in fact, simple human nature to amplify or exaggerate the importance of minor infractions that have a direct impact on us while overlooking bigger issues that might ultimately have a greater impact on us, albeit less directly. 

So when we have a direct interaction or experience that’s negative, and we’re not personally experiencing the positive, or we’re now allowing ourselves to relish the positive and to really experience the good that’s happening, then our overall perception is naturally going to be a negative one. This is one reason for us to feel that things are worse than they actually are.

And without question there are a handful (probably even less) of active members in our community who serve as lightning rods and whose mere presence evokes negative response. 

We all know these types of controversial figures.  Some of them are intentional “shit stirrers” and some are probably well-intended “leaders” who are inept and unwilling to accept help or to take responsibility for mistakes.  Since none of these folks are intentionally destructive or hateful, both types wind up having supporters as well as detractors, although not always in equal measure (and probably rightfully so).  

When these people engage in event planning or organization, community response focuses on these lightning rod people as individuals rather than their activities, events or organizations—usually to the detriment of the event or organization, and without any impact on the individual who is doing the organizing.   But the “negativity” of that discourse takes on a life of its own, and far outlasts any single event or activity.

And, at least from my own personal experience in the leather community, the discourse around infractions or even perceived infractions tends to be unhealthy, disrespectful and destructive. 

A healthy community, like a healthy relationship, requires dialogue.  But I’ve witnessed firsthand that when a legitimate red flag is raised, the person who is raising it may be targeted and, sometimes, shot down. 

In these scenarios, it’s almost automatic that people divide.  We position ourselves into camps and prepare for attack.  In “taking sides,” we grown adults become like kids on a playground.  Instead of working together to resolve conflict or to clarify misunderstandings or miscommunications, we play games with smoke and mirrors.  We tend to divert attention from wrongs or potential wrongs, not only of our own doing, but of those whose “side” we are taking. 

We all get caught up in this, lay men and leaders alike.  I was genuinely shocked to find that leaders (and not just local ones) would rather point out flaws or perceived flaws in others to deflect attention from their charges rather than holding them accountable and creating good will within the community.   I’ve witnessed some leaders literally offer to PAY for others’ mistakes rather than holding others accountable for financials.  These are nice gestures, but don’t foster trust in our leadership.  And what we need to true leadership and trust.

Rather than admitting failures, we have a tendency to point fingers and suggest that others’ flaws are bigger than our own and therefore not worthy of discussion. 

Folks who have not even taken part in any questionable activity become personally and emotionally invested in these discussions.   And to what end?  Often people who have the best intentions, who want only the best things for the community, wind up harming each other.   Ironically even national titleholders who lament how we “eat our own” are guilty of cannibalism. 

Sadly when it comes to these lightning rod types, the kind of communication we engage in these days can only end in stalemates.  Nobody feels like winner, nobody has emotional closer, everybody maintains their resentment and anger.

And when you look at it from this perspective, in the midst of all this finger-pointing, blaming, accusations, suspicions and hurt feelings, no wonder it’s hard to remember all the wonderful things that are happening in our community.  And yet these wonderful things are real… and, in truth, more real than most of our discussions and discourse!

I started thinking about these things early in June at this year’s Pride parade, noting how few members of the area’s leather groups and bear groups were marching or joining the Bike Stop float.  Last year there were a ton of bears and leather men who had joined the float; this year they were mostly missing in action.  This was a big change. 

I wondered what, if anything, the lack of participation was communicating.  Was this a wake-up call about our community involvement/health or merely an indicator that in horrendously hot weather, leather men would prefer air-conditioned dungeon spaces or getting out of town?  Or perhaps something else altogether?

These questions prompted me to take a personal assessment of the Philadelphia area leather community—where we are, where we’ve been, and where we’re going.   And since I’m self-interested, I’m starting with November 2007 since that’s when I won my title and consequently started paying closer attention to the community and its concerns.

In November, we saw a very successful leather weekend in town with increased corporate sponsors such as RECON.  The contest was sold-out and we saw lots of out-of-towners (many of them HOT) visiting our fair city during the event. 

Inspired by my leather brothers in New Jersey who created their own yahoo group to effectively communicate with one another about issues and events of interest, one of the first things that I did after winning my title was to create a yahoo group for the Philadelphia area leather community (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/phillyleather).  

Is it a perfect online environment for us?  Absolutely not!

Although not all communications posted are equally effective or constructive, the yahoo group has been a great tool for advertising events, sales, recruiting group membership, etc.  It’s also provided an outlet for members of the pan and straight kink community to share information, network and promote events to the gay- and lesbian-identified leather community.    

Members of the Crusty Old Leather Dykes (COLD) used the yahoo group to introduce themselves to the community at large and to invite others into their fold, and they used the group to promote their bar nights at The Bike Stop (parties they call “Dyke Stop” although they are open to all women) and at FUSE (XO Lounge).   In addition to this increased public visibility, the group has a website (http://crustyoldleatherdykes.com) and is planning a series of podcasts for women—which I believe will be the only lesbian-focused leather podcast available.   Go, Philly dykes!  It’s nice to see leather and lesbian women doing more in public than marching before the June pride celebrations or driving their cycles!

The Keystone Boys of Leather is still in its forming stages, but they too have used the yahoo group to promote their first “It’s a Boy!” social (attended and/or supported by members of the Philadelphians MC, The New York boys of Leather, the DC boys of Leather, the Centaurs, the Pennsmen and Argonauts) and their first business meeting last month.  The boys have created their own yahoo group (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/keystoneboysofleather) and website (http://keystoneboysofleather.org), and they meet next on Sunday, July 27^th at 5pm in the basement of the Bike Stop.  But you can check them out on July 4 at their Bike Stop BBQ fundraiser, 11am -4pm (this event is unrelated to the MidAtlantic Leather SIR/leather boy contest also taking place at the Bike Stop that weekend).

Mature groups like the Philadelphians MC, who already have an extended network, have also used the yahoo group, although to a lesser extent.   And our brothers and sisters in NJ have used the group to promote a long series of events, from toy drives at the holidays to chili cook-offs to their Foreplay party and pride celebrations.

Philadelphia saw three M4M spanking parties in 2008, attracting men from across the region (including New York), from their 20s to 50s, in a wide range of shapes, sizes and degrees of spanking versatility.  That’s a lotta pink butt!  And if you weren’t in the social circuits that promoted these private parties, you might not have learned about them outside of the yahoo group.

Our straight allies from MAsT Philadelphia, who along with members of the local NLA chapter, proved to be great allies and collaborators for my CLAW Nation kinky carnival in March, partnered with Passional just last month to present bondage workshops with celebrated author Jay Wiseman.   Talk about kicking off Pride month with a kinky twist!

 MAsT: Philadelphia supports the states of Pennsylvania, Delaware and South New Jersey. It exists as an education, support and resource group for individuals involved in, or interested in the Master/slave and/or Dominant/submissive lifestyle, and provides an opportunity and forum for like-minded individuals to come together for discussion of issues of concern, to share ideas and gain and/or share knowledge of the Master/slave lifestyle.  Their next meeting, on July 9, will include a safety presentation on dungeon/ play party etiquette and discussion about community mentoring.  For more information about MAsT, check out their yahoo group at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/MAsT_Philadelphia_Announcements

Black Phoenix, a new members-only play space, also opened just last month.  From what I read on the yahoo group (I haven’t seen it personally), it is a large, impressive space with plenty of room to swing a single tail or to do suspension work.  According to press releases, there will be smoking, changing and social areas available for everyone, as well as a unisex restroom and cleaning stations.   I understand that plans are also in the works for private same-sex parties for folks who are more comfortable playing in a gay-only environment. 

Although we saw the demise of the Magnum parties this year, there’s been great buzz and grrrrrs over the new weekly bear parties, WOOF! Philly, at 200 S 12^th Street.  Held every Sunday, WOOF! Philly promises cheap beer, hot guest DJs (such as Tony Ruiz, Mad Adam, Gary Givant and Philly’s own DJs Barney and Zathan Radix), and sexy beartenders.  This coming weekend’s party (“Woof! NYC Invades Woof! Philly) will feature DJ Reed McGowan with Max Scott with special porn star guests from Butch Bear.  WOOF! Philly indeed!   For more information and schedules, check out http://www.myspace.com/woofphilly and http://www.woofphilly.com.

 

Also coming up this month is the Libertine Ball (http://libertineball.com) at club Shampoo on July 11-13, for folks who want to get celebrate their kink and shake their pirate booty, and the discipline-themed MidAtlantic Leather SIR/boy contest kicks off the month and the July 4 holiday weekend with special guest judges including IML 2008 Gary Iriza and Philly’s own Michael Casey at the Bike Stop (including a meet-n-greet at 11pm on Friday, July 4; contest 6-8pm on Saturday, July 5, with $15 donation going to the winner’s travel fund; Red White and Leather Victory Party at 10pm to benefit NGLTF; and closing reception at 2pm on July 6).   

Later in July I look forward to judging the International Deaf Leather contest (along with Gary Iriza, who returns to town for this second contest), with events taking place July 17-20 at The Bike Stop, Club Body and William Way Community Center.  The IDL weekend includes bar nights, cocktail parties, a leather market, workshops and more.  This year’s charity beneficiaries are the Philadelphia AIDS Thrift and Calcutta House.  For more information about IDL, check out their website at http://idl2008.org/.

With all these exciting things going on, with new events coming to town, new groups being created or expanding, there’s no reason to think so poorly of ourselves.   Much like the example from my customer service call center about online access complaints, the facts here in Philly tell another story.

We are evolving; we are growing.  We are succeeding in building community, not only within our tighter knit social cliques, but across groups of all kinds.  We are integrating gay and straight, men and women. 

We need to celebrate this growth and not focus on past mistakes and old wounds.  We can’t change the past, but we can choose to look beyond past mistakes.    

And if we’re still harboring ill will… well, not focusing on past misdoings doesn’t mean we ignore them, disregard them or that we can’t learn from them.   But it does mean forgiving.

We need to remember that it’s natural and normal to fail on occasion—as event planners and as people.  We are fragile and human—we lie to cover ourselves, even when there’s nothing to cover up.   We try to hide what we consider our failures, even if these are failures that others would understand and accept.

It’s better to try and fail than to do nothing.   If you try and fail, admit it and let yourself be comforted by the community.  Share lessons learned so others don’t make the same mistake, and try again.

It’s easier to say than do, I know. 

And I admit that sometimes it feels like there are people who are impossible to forgive.

Unfortunately in our western Judeo-Christian culture, we often believe there must be repentance before there can be forgiveness.    Community leaders who are too weak to admit their failings and mistakes engender enduring suspicion and anger—and unfortunately a questionable event or activity from the past may acquire the power to taint future events.  Even if/when no real transgression has taken place, there is black cloud over these leaders and all subsequent events in which they participate. 

In cases like this, we have two healthy choices— forgive someone blindly, because it’s healthier for you (the forgiver), and healthier for the community; or opt out of supporting future events by these leaders until they have proven themselves to be worthy (by whatever standards you have set for yourself). 

But we need to stop bashing each other for the smallest of infractions, and it’s time to stop bashing ourselves for our own mistakes.  There’s plenty of blame to go around, but plenty of forgiveness and compassion too.  We need to forgive ourselves and each other just for being weak, for not always being able to admit that we’ve done wrong.  The truth is, sometimes what we hate most in others is what we fear most in ourselves.

But when we get past our own distrust and hurts-- and I believe we will-- our community will all find an amazing wealth of opportunities here in kinky and fetish Philadelphia.   We have some great people here, and great potential to continue to grow and develop into a world-class community. 

Come the Fourth of July, whether you’re BBQ-ing with the Keystone boys, celebrating Discipline-style at the Bike Stop, in an air-conditioned dungeon play space, or just getting out of town, consider the freedom that is afforded by forgiveness, and the unity that is created by compassion.   Now these things are really worth celebrating.

My favorite new blog page -- www.robertblackxxx.com -- has just introduced a new podcast series of the same name (Robert Black XXX on the iTunes store).

For those of you who don't know, Robert Black is a longtime porn star, business person, massage therapist, and soon to be nurse.  He's also an actual player in the BDSM scene (not just for the videos).  And he's a heck of a nice guy too, a real mensch.

I was thrilled to be invited to participate on his podcast-- following in the footsteps of the incredibly sexy Derek De Silva.  This is the interview Robert conducted with me.  I hope you enjoy it, and that you check out his interview with Derek as well... oh hell, just subscribe to the podcast so you don't miss any in the future either.

S

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As followers of my column or podcast know, Mr. Dixie Belle Leather and I made a joke of creating a club for socially awkward leather titleholders-- guys who want to serve the community and get more involved, but who struggle with the whole mixing and mingling with crowds.  We (half-jokingly) thought there was a need to support leather titleholder wallflowers to take their next step.

Well, as it turns out, we didn't have enough time (or cash) to have a leather patch for this fake club designed in time for IML to keep the joke running... but we did create pins. 

The pins can be worn by ANYONE (titleholder or otherwise) who is challenged by social interactions-- whether that's making the first move in reaching out to another person, or even being comfortable in how you respond.  It can also signal that you're a friend or admirer of the Social Maladepts, whose shyness or social awkwardness might sometimes be misconstrued as standoffish.

So if you see someone wearing a pin with the letters "SM" (which could stand for Scott Mallinger, but really are an acronym for "Social Maladepts") that features a brick wall in the background and a black flower in the foreground (my Pictionary version of a leather wall flower... lol), go up and say hello.  Or at least smile.  And see if perhaps you can get a pin for yourself to show your support!

After all, if we're going out to a pride or leather event, it's because we're trying to make connections with others.  So let's connect-- and get yourself pinned!

 

 

Almost immediately after the IML competition, after the backstage hugs and congratulations to my fellow contestants, I fled Chicago and retreated to The Woods campground in the Pennsylvania mountains.

 

After the huge crowds, the pomp, and frenetic energy of Chicago, it was comforting to be disturbed only by the crackling of a fire and the noise of a mama and daddy bird feeding their four babies on the porch just outside my camp trailer. 

 

It was only a week or so before the contest that the eggs hatched.  There is a strange but life affirming serenity to the squawking of these hideous-looking chicks.  Looking like small reptiles with perpetually open beaks, they prove that nature may be awesome and awe-inspiring, but not always pretty. 

 

Of course, that’s often true in the leather community too, and in the circuits we fall into.

 

People have been asking me what it was like to participate in IML, and the truth is, it’s very hard to say.  It a deep and core personal journey, and each individual charts his own path.  I believe this to be true not only of myself, but of my fellow contestants.  We all crossed borders and boundaries of some kind, geographical, physical, linguistic and emotional.  Some of us all of the above, and perhaps more. 

 

When all is said and done, most of us emerged better men for it.  Whether we forged lifelong friendships or not, we were given a great opportunity to challenge and test ourselves, and I’m so proud not only of myself but of all of my classmates.  They are an extraordinary group of men, and our worldwide leather community is lucky to have them. 

 

Suffice it to say, IML was a wonderful, crazy, disappointing, affirming, nerve-wrecking, sexy, painful and joyous emotional rollercoaster ride.  Despite the occasional motion sickness, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

 

If the following column seems even more disjointed than most of my writing, my apologies.  I concede that my head is still reeling somewhat, but I want to capture some memories and impressions leading up to and through the big weekend.

 

In the days, even weeks, leading up to IML XXX (some of us called it “IML 30” and some “triple X”—and given the number of contestants in my class with porn credits, “triple X” was probably most appropriate!), I was among 51 titleholders contestants who were constantly asked by well-meaning friends, supporters and community members about whether I was “ready” for IML.   It was great for building up excitement and anxiety.

 

(I suggest if you want to show your interest in and support of someone running for a title, just tell the candidate that you’re routing for them and wish them well.  Ask if advice is desired and, if so, make it direct and clear.  Don’t ask questions—candidates who are taking themselves and their prospective title seriously are already full of questions.  They’re looking for answers!  Repeatedly being asked if I was ready began to undercut my confidence—why was I being asked this question? Did I seem ill-prepared?) 

 

But then, IML generates such excitement that it makes for perfect breeding ground for paranoia. 

 

For instance, I was informed that judges (or their friends and colleagues) would be doing research on contestants far in advance of the contest.  As soon as titleholders are named, I was told, judges go online and see what they can dig up on you for the interviews.  And sometimes they “test” you to see how you’ll respond to certain scenarios.

 

I confess that I googlebated. Yes, I looked myself up online.  I found my homepage  (www.scottdaddy.com), my blog page (www.leatherbound.libsyn.com), my local contest fantasy scene on youtube.com, and references to my column and podcast on other people’s blog pages.  It was actually a rather positive experience for me—I saw nice things said about me that I never would have known about otherwise!

 

And then a week or so before IML, as I’m looking at pictures of beautiful beefy men on bear411, I received a message from a stranger.  Out of the blue, he sent me a note with some rather rude things to say about me and my triad relationship.  Although my gut instinct was to respond with an expletive, I thought to myself, “well, this could be a judge testing me…” and so I responded with a positive message and wished him well.  He responded back with more hate and a prediction that my relationship wouldn’t last.  I turned the other cheek, replying with another positive message about the importance of appreciating and affirming all relationships, and noted that I’ve been with my husband for 16 years now and my boy for 6 years.  To me, that’s a successful relationship.  His third message suggested that relationships like mine are the reason why gays will never have the right to marry.  And once again, I replied with a sincere message (belying my tested patience) that my finding love and comfort and nurturance with two men was not about satisfying anyone’s political agenda, straight or gay.  It was a personal commitment that I was making, a personal choice, and that I was proud of it all.

 

And something amazing and completely unexpected happened… his next note was an apology.  This stranger who was so offended by my profile and by my relationship said he was sorry for being a jerk and that I seemed like a “cool dude.”  We started exchanging positive messages on both sides.  We found common ground and respect that, in all likelihood, never would have been achieved had I just been “myself” and not in contestant mode.

 

It was almost a spiritual awakening.

 

I realized what an amazing and loving world we might live in if we all feared the wrathful and all-watching eyes of an IML judge, and consequently behaved just a little bit nicer and more compassionately toward one another.  I wondered if this was what life was like when we were a God-fearing nation.

 

But the biggest help for reclaiming my confidence occurred from connections that I made at CLAW.  

 

Not only did I meet a handful of individuals that I truly admired and respected as fellow titleholders and competitors, and looked forward to getting to know better in Chicago, but I attended a workshop by the Chicago Leather Kennel Club (CLKC), a non-profit organization that was created to support contestants or potential contestants in any number of leather title circuits, whether a bar title, a state/regional feeder contest, or big-time events like International Mr. Leather and International Leather SIR/boy competitions.  

 

CLKC offers services such as reviewing IML contestant applications, wardrobe, public speaking and presentation, speech, etc. This year they posted their handbook online, and it was an amazing resource of judge biographies and affiliations, correspondences between IML contestants and winners and organizers, with sample questions to help prepare for judges’ interviews, etc. 

 

The most common advice was to be ourselves.  So how do we prepare for that?!  Well, CLKC posted questions to challenge what is in our hearts and minds so that we really know ourselves going into our competitions.    Yes, there really is a way to prepare for being more you and knowing what you’re made of—it’s called introspection!

 

When I was considering running for the local title, I was told that I’d learn a lot about myself in the process.  And it was true—I learned that I had strength and skills that I didn’t know that I had.  Yet I was amazed by how much more I learned about myself through the CLKC Socratic method of self-questioning.

 

Since the nearly 100 questions they offered up are worth asking ourselves, whether running for a title or not, here’s a few of the ones that I found most provocative or helpful….

 

• What is your definition of manhood?
• Is it alright for a titleholder to be effeminate?
• What is your definition of a leather person?
• What are your worst character flaws?
• What is your greatest potential?
• What do you appreciate in yourself?
• When is the last time you cried and why?
• What is your greatest sadness?
• Describe yourself in five words, and which two of these are the most important to you? 

 

The questions that I found most difficult and emotional had to do with identifying mentors and heroes.  I came to realize that I do not (yet) have close friends that are deeply rooted in the traditions and history of leather, whose lifestyle and whose life paths are forged in power exchange and cow hide and kink.  Although I’ve certainly been inspired by the writings and images of many, many men, I’m not sure if I’ve met a leatherman that I would consider a hero.

 

I also realized that I haven’t had a true mentor since coming out as a gay man when I was 18—more than half a lifetime ago.  His name was Michael Labance, and he was the founding publisher of Au Courant Newsmagazine in Philadelphia.  When he and his partner befriended me, they introduced me to the gay community, and they changed the way that I viewed the world and viewed myself.  They taught me that, even as a teenager, I was valuable and had things to contribute.  They encouraged me as a journalist to interview government leaders and public figures, despite my age and inexperience, and gave me opportunities to meet my heroes at that time (men like Larry Kramer and Harvey Fierstein, who brought their messages of activism and rage and humor and love through public action, public speech and performance).  

 

When I was packing for Chicago, I put some of the material used in making Michael’s NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt in my pant pockets for contestant introductions.  When I was onstage in Chicago on Sunday, I carried Michael with me.  And I’m quite sure that if he wasn’t too busy rolling joints with porn stars in pig heaven, he was looking down at me with the pride of a parent. 

 

For men or women considering running for a title, it’s worth mentioning that CLKC offers their services for free, and with an outpouring of affection and enthusiasm that is mind-blowing.  Because some of their members work for airlines, they even offer to travel to contestants’ hometowns, to help contenders prepare with members of their own local community for mock interviews and stage practice.   

 

And believe it or not, there was no solicitation of donations and no “if you win, you want you to do this for us…” from them-- just complete and focused support from a band of brothers who want to see us do well, and who want to foster strength and confidence in new leaders.

 

So let me offer my heartfelt thanks and gratitude to CLKC in general for an amazing service they are providing to a national community-- and to Chuck Windemuth in particular, for helping me feel prepared going into Chicago, and for the hugs and support while I was there.   In nurturing our future leaders, CLKC truly embodies leather brotherhood, and I can only hope to lead by their example.

 

For many of us, IML began on Wednesday with advance registration.  Many of us met in person for the first time at an informal dinner at a local restaurant.  We scoped each other out as men, as competitors, and in some cases, as potential playmates.  We laughed, drank and took the opportunity to get to know one another before the craziness kicked in.

We even shared tips and stories about how we were preparing, while our partners/ boys/ pups watched and patiently supported us.  

 

I know I couldn’t have gone through the weekend without my boy there.  While my emotions hit highs and lows, he was my saving grace, my constant, my rock.  I heard the same from other titleholders of their partners. 

 

Thursday after registration was over, there was an orientation program.  We heard inspiring speeches, effectively designed to stir our emotions.  Our impressions of IML continued to build and swell.  We met previous IML winners, this year’s judges and still more contestants.  We were promised a thrill ride like no other, and plenty of support from an expert team of volunteers and staff.   And we got both.

 

And for folks who have never truly felt supported before, let me tell you, the IML support team does an amazing job of offering up nurturance, flirtation, fraternal love, tough love, and more.  Information came at us fast and furious, but we knew we were in excellent hands under the direction of Dean Ogren and our Den Daddy Joey McDonald.

 

In the dressing room for opening ceremonies, contestants gaped and gawked and, on more than one occasion, groped one another.  (Did I mention the large percentage of bodybuilders and porn stars?)  Some of us measured up well (and some well over 8 inches), and a few even got applause from fellow classmates in the dressing room simply for baring all. 

 

These men put on such a good show in the dressing room that, despite my body image issues, I was grateful to have one of the best seats in the house!

 

Despite warnings that the goodwill of leather brotherhood is sometimes sullied by competition, I’m pleased to report that I saw only affection and support among my classmates leading up to Chicago and at the contest itself.  If there can be honor among thieves, then surely there was an odd dignity and grace among the competitors. 

 

As the weekend advanced, the group gropes actually increased.  Perhaps it was the promise of sex and advanced surges of testosterone, or perhaps it was just tension-induced desperation and need for comfort during a time of stress, but there was hugging and groping and fluffing galore.  There was kissing and kidding.  (Check out the photo galleries on the IML website, if you think I’m exaggerating.  The commemorative DVD should be even hotter for the backstage video footage than the actual contest!)

 

It was like no environment that I’d ever been to before—surreal and strange and erotic and emotionally exhausting.

 

After I had realized at CLAW how many walls I had put up around myself, I made a greater effort to reach out to my classmates in Chicago.  I was gratified by the reception I received.   My focus was on myself and on my boy, but the connections that I made felt real.  I strove to be authentic, and was relieved when others confessed to being equally nervous.  More than one man told me that he questioned whether he belonged in this league of leather men. 

 

The elitism of the IML brand—being best of the best—was both flattering and overwhelming.  Who among us could live up to that kind of message?  Those in the class who were not among the prettiest wondered if this was really just a beauty contest, and the beauties (at least some of them) wondered aloud whether they really were qualified to run for the title.

 

Neurosis can be very democratic.  There is a god.

 

At opening ceremonies on Thursday, I picked the envelope for contestant number 3.  Thank goodness!  This meant that on Friday morning I was among the first of the contestants to have their eight-minute interview with the judges (what many folks consider the hardest part of the event) and have that out of the way. 

 

I was reasonably well prepared for the interview, and was glad that I had positive responses for most of the questions.  When it came to responding to one judge’s question about how I would handle the time demands that came with the IML title, however, I made an uncomfortable disclosure: I was not looking to win.  

 

Running for IML is essentially campaigning for a job—one that has a lot of prestige, a lot of expectations, but very little compensation.  I told the judges that when running for the Philadelphia title, I had committed to help building my local community, and I could not honor that commitment if I won IML and was traveling.  I also noted that I have two partners that I was concerned about neglecting should I win the title (I don’t have the funds to travel the world and bring them with me).  Winning the contest was not worth risking failure with my family or lost opportunities with my home community. 

 

I hoped my comments would earn the judges’ respect, even if it wouldn’t score me big points.   (I still hope that!)  As I stood alone before the table of nine judges, I tried to gauge their response.  I think they all play poker.

 

In a brief moment that seemed like an eternity, the judges looked at one another in silence, seeming to ask one another without words whether they should proceed with the interview.  Luckily they did! 

 

Ultimately I think that I represented myself and Philadelphia well.  We’re a wonderful if dysfunctional family in the City of Bottomly Love, and we have a community that’s worth staying home for in order to make things right. 

 

I was feeling proud of myself for being honest with the judges and feeling like I was living with integrity with my local title, but inevitably as time passed, I wondered and worried about how I was perceived by the judges.  And as insecurity fosters insecurity, body image issues and other crap began to flood my mind.  I was a mess… and again, very grateful for my boy’s assurances and comforts.

 

And an excuse to go shopping.

 

At the leather market, I ran into former IML Joe Gallagher and introduced myself.  I have had the pleasure of exchanging a few notes with Joe on leather websites in the past, and was beyond flattered when he said he considered me a thought leader in the community and requested permission to include links to my column on his website, www.leatherpage.com.   To be considered among the ranks of writers, academics and activists like former IML John Pendal, who recognized me from my writings at Thursday’s orientation, longtime columnist Jack Rinella, and LCC’s Dr. Richard A. Sprott is as great an honor to me as winning a title.  I consider being included on that website to be one of my great achievements.

 

At any rate, Joe embraced me with a hearty bear hug in the middle of the Mind Fetish store and we had a little chat.  When I told him about my disclosure to the judges, he threw up his arms and cried out, “Why would you ever do that?!  They’ll listen to you!”   I was genuinely touched by his frustration, and he told me that he thought I was the kind of guy that IML really needed, someone who could write and articulate issues.  But before we parted ways for more shopping or cruising, he offered more words of support and another hug.   It meant the world to me.

 

When my boy and I returned to our room after shopping, I broke down into bittersweet tears.   After my interview with the judges, I knew I would never be among the ranks of IML giants.   I’d transformed myself from size 40 pants in 2007 to size 32 in 2008, but I know I’ll never be one of the truly magnificent beauties that I saw undressed backstage. 

 

Yet I also knew that among some IML winners, I was considered a kind of peer.  I may not have had a leather mentor or a cohesive leather community behind me, but somehow I managed to find a place at the table.  Whether I always feel it or not, I belong.  It was one of those moments of heartbreaking joy. 

 

So to celebrate fitting in, I decided to check out the www.IMRL.com website and check the photo galleries.  I would not win the contest, but I earned my place among them.  I thought it would be a nice positive reinforcement to actually see myself with my classmates. 

 

Only I didn’t.

 

I found a shot of me onstage (all contestants were captured at least once onstage at the opening ceremonies), but there none of me in the candid pics.   I saw lots of pictures of guys that I was with… but never with me in the frame. 

 

There were, of course, plenty of photographs of the beautiful people.

 

And the emotional rollercoaster hit another low point.  What the hell was I doing here? I thought again, quickly returning to self-pity mode.  If I’m not the right type for IML to take pictures of, I have no place here…

 

And just as quickly as that mood swing struck, fate stepped in again. 

 

On the lower right corner of my screen, I saw notification from hotmail that I received a new message.  And when I opened it up, I found a heartfelt note from a complete stranger, who wrote to tell me that he found my podcast on iTunes by typing in the keyword “leather.” 

 

In his email, Gregory told me that he was listening to my experiences at CLAW and related to it.  I read his note aloud to my boy, choking on my emotion when it came to this point:

 

“Thanks for being direct, honest, humble, and human.  Thanks for your comments about machismo being unresolved self loathing (my interpretation), about cuddling, etc.  Thanks also for your humor… Glad you are out there doing what you are doing.  Just needed to let you know how it has inspired me to go deeper with being more authentic with my kink and my desires.”

 

Gregory’s email thankfully cut short my pity party.  He reminded me that being a part of the IML experience was about being a leader, about being a man of integrity, about being the type of person who celebrates kink and human connections.  I’m sure it would be more than nice to look like Mr. Hoist (England) or Bolt (Sacramento, CA), but I was fine just as I was.  Why be satisfied with being an object of lust when you can be inspiring?!

 

It turned out to be a good night after all.

 

My boy, demonstrating infinite wisdom, suggested that I write Gregory’s name down on a piece of paper and to keep it with me when I went out onstage for Pecs and Personality so that I would remember why I belonged among this particular company of men.  And I did just that.   (So, Gregory, if you’re reading this column or listening to this podcast, please know that you were onstage at IML XXX.  And that you yourself inspired at least one contestant.)

 

Aided by my boy’s love, Gregory’s name folded in my pocket, and a dose of Xanax (in no particular order), I was actually feeling pretty good for Saturday’s Pecs and Personality competition.  Among the bodybuilders and porn stars and pretty boys, I somehow managed to remove the shirt. 

 

In the middle of a sea of photo-worthy beautiful people, I exposed myself with all my flaws: loose skin, stretch marks, zits, patches of hair, a fake tan.   And something most incredible happened—I felt even more welcomed and a part of the class of IML than before. 

 

The more I opened my heart and let go of my baggage, the walls kept coming down.  I even got groped a couple times myself!  Connections and self-esteem can also be democratic.  Hallelujah.

 

By the time Sunday came around, many of us secretly admitted to each other that we just wanted the weekend to be over.  We were promised an emotional rollercoaster, and they delivered!  Former IML Guy Baldwin’s pre-rehearsal pep talk and meditation– completely canned but seemingly genuine— reduced most of us to tears.  Some of us to sobbing fits. The emotions just kept building.

 

After Baldwin’s remarks, contestants were paraded across the hotel to the dressing room, to prepare for rehearsals.  As we passed through the crowds at the Hyatt, people stopped what they were doing.  They watched.  They smiled.  They cheered us on, some madly. 

 

Although it sounds hokey, I believe most titleholders serve their communities because they feel a personal obligation or desire to make their corner of the world a better place.  Most of us don’t do it for the validation—these days, there’s very little clout to having a title or sash.  And a “thank you” is often more rare than a self-douching hole. 

 

So seeing the cheering crowds welcoming us, I felt a tremendous sense of pride.  And joy.  We were appreciated.  These folks may not have known exactly what it took for us all to win our respective titles, but they appreciated our accomplishments and our involvement.  It was a simple moment that will remain with me for a very long time.

 

For the men who did not make the top 20 finalist positions—including myself—Sunday’s contest involved coming out onto the stage twice—once to be introduced, once to be dismissed. 

 

The second time we were brought onstage, it was from the back of the audience.  As we approached the stage from the back of the ballroom, it was disheartening to see so many open seats at the contest—after all the talk about how important IML is, all the motivational speeches and hype, all the tears we’d shed over this moment, and given the thousands and thousands of men in town for the event, it was shocking to see how few bothered to show up for the contest.

 

What a reality check.

 

I realized, once again, that IML is what we make of it.  This is true for the judges, the contestants and the winner.  Unfortunately, it’s also true of the public.

 

For me, competing in IML was an exhilarating ride because I view IML to be the embodiment of the leatherman ideal.  For that reason, to be considered at all, is a tremendous honor.  It was incredibly meaningful and personal.

 

But objectively speaking, IML is a contest.  And a money maker.  Perhaps for the majority of the community (non-titleholders and non-sash-chasers), IML is nothing more than a weekend of parties and hot men and wild play time.    For men seeking a good time, but not an iconic titleholder, there was not enough to bring them into the contest.

 

 

IML’s success rests not only on its history, but on good marketing and promises of sex.  Good marketing means hot men on their web sites, and promises of sex are not fulfilled on the contest stage but in the other rooms of the host hotel. 

 

And what makes an IML?  Well, it’s completely subjective.

 

Judges are not given criteria for their scoring.  Each judge brings their own background, agenda, interests and fetishes to hopefully culminate in a winner that represents everyone well.   It sounds good on paper, right?  (It does to me.)

 

But how many people outside of title circuits can honestly recite the names of the last 3

IML winners?  Or even last year’s?  How many people have felt represented?  Does IML touch the lives of the average leather man?

 

Could he?

 

Before our initial introduction on Sunday, we stood backstage while IML owner Chuck Renslow delivered a rousing speech about the changing kink scene—how the leather scene evolved from biker leather to include latex and rubber, then skinheads, then boys and pups.  There was a public call for inclusion that sounded wonderful.

 

I would have been moved, but as a contestant, I heard very different messages leading up to the contest.  I specifically recall hearing from MORE than one judge that, “This is Mr. International LEATHER.  I want to see LEATHER.  Not rubber, not skin gear, not other stuff.”

 

Now that the weekend is over, now that my heartbeat has returned to normal, I’m wondering if contest seats would have been more full if, in fact, the men of IML Class of 2008 were encouraged to represent the full spectrum of kink and not simply leather?  Should we have been allowed to practice what organizers preached?  

 

If people felt connected to and represented by IML, would there have been more seats filled?  What the title be more meaningful to a larger audience?

 

As Renslow noted, we are now in a world very different than it was when IML started. What, if anything, should IML mean to the community at large?  Are we holding out for a hero, a role model, a thought leader, a pretty boy to inspire new fantasies?  Do we want an icon of mythic proportions, or perhaps someone that we can relate to, who makes us feel that we too belong?

 

As usual, I don’t have answers, only questions.

 

As I got to meet my fellow contestants, I was impressed by the diversity of the group—men in their 20s to 60s; muscle men and pretty boys; bears and cubs and wolves the gamut in between.  There were men with little experience but great desire and enthusiasm, and men with a great deal of experience in playing and community service.  Many of these latter men did not place within top 20, while youngsters and personal trainers and porn stars did. 

 

As I said, I was impressed by all of my classmates.  And since there are no objective criteria for selecting an IML, it really felt that any one of us (except me) could be going on as a finalist during Sunday’s contest.  Of course, this was not possible.

 

Not being privy to the contestant applications, and since the judges interviews are closed to the public, it can be difficult to understand the decision of the top 20 finalists.  Not that I believe any of the finalists chosen were unworthy—but why these men and not some of the others?

 

Were the most exceptionally attractive chosen because they gave good interview and personality?  (Interviews were worth 60% of initial scoring, and Pecs & Personality for the remaining 40%)  Did judges grant more latitude (consciously or otherwise) to the beautiful guys in order to put on a better show?  Were younger men whose only fundraising events were for their own travel fund chosen over men with true community service in order to inject new blood and The Next Generation energy into the proceedings?

 

I’m not questioning the decisions made, but I am curious about HOW they were made.

 

In order for IML to remain an iconic ideal (if that is what it should be), there needs to be a greater understanding of what it means to be International Mr. Leather and what it takes to represent the best of the best. 

 

I have a good deal of respect for many of the IML judges (I  might even say that I have a good deal of respect for al of them, but to be perfectly honest, I don’t know enough to have an informed opinion about all of them). 

 

Over the past few months, I’ve met our new IML Gary Iriza on a couple occasions.  He’s a beautiful man on the outside, and seems like a great guy too.  I’ve remarked to others after having exchanges with him that I find him to be not only sexy, but exuding confidence without arrogance, which is a great combination in my book. 

 

Gary also happens to be a personal trainer and porn star, able to earn a living off his looks and body.  Good for him.  That he also happens to be a sweet man with a boyish exuberance and a talent for fundraising is great for us.

 

But is he an ideal leatherman?  Who is he representing?  How many of us can relate?

 

I hope that being honest about having gone through the IML process, and what it means to me, grants some me the license to ask these questions about IML without sounding like a bitter loser.  I feel blessed and enriched by the experience, and have absolutely no regrets about it.

 

But I do ask myself (and have heard others asking in whispers): If the judges aren’t given criteria on which to judge, if there is really no ideal IML winner, then what is the point of it to the community at large? 

 

Why are the interviews closed to the public?  If the winner is supposed to represent us all, don’t we all have a right to know him as much as the judges?

 

For the larger community, is IML just another circuit party with a terrific leather market and a beefcake show?  When you look at the crowds at the host hotel and the men chosen onstage, it does make you wonder.  And, sometimes, draw some sad conclusions.

 

But long after I stop asking these unseemly questions, my impressions and memories of IML XXX wil