Of the many questions that often come up when discussing BDSM are questions concerning the distinction between consensual sadomasochism and self-harm, or self-mutilation. This is not surprising because, from the perspective of an onlooker and especially when taken out of context, many masochistic behaviors like knife play look similar to arguably unhealthy behaviors such as (self-injurious) cutting. However, the reality is that the two activities are no more the same thing as a car and a horse; both cars and horses can and are used to move matter from one physical location to another, but the similarities pretty much end there.

Perhaps predictably, this very topic was raised in a question posed to the “BDSM 101” panel that I participated in at last weekend’s Western Regional LGBTQIA Conference at UC Berkeley. On the panel was Sloane Soleil, a self-identified switch who notably enjoys heavy masochism. In her introduction, she disclosed that she had a history of cutting, prompting an anonymous question from the audience.1

Unfortunately, to respect panelists in the closet, no recording devices of any kind were allowed, so I can’t remember the question in its own words (nor can I perfectly remember anyone else’s words). The gist, though, was something like this, paraphrased: “As someone who has a history with cutting, do you ever feel uneasy about seeking to satisfy your masochism in BDSM play or worry that what you’re doing is self-harming again?” That question was possibly the best one we received and I felt disgruntled by how little time we were given to discuss the topic.

As all great questions do, this one betrays an understandable ignorance coupled with eager curiosity. Sloane answered first, since the question was directly addressed to her, and she asserted the oft-repeated notion that she had no trouble reconciling her history of cutting with her interest in engaging in BDSM as a bottom because in the former case she was working through personal mental issues while in the latter she was simply seeking pleasurable experiences.2 Other panelists jumped in after her, most of whom were simply reiterating Sloane’s assertions in their own words. Dean, a fellow panelist, made the point that one’s mindset while self-harming is typically self-destructive to the body (and thus unhealthy), while one’s mindset in doing BDSM is not (and thus not unhealthy).

These answers may be valid for the individuals giving them, but they are murky at best. Dean’s point in particular borders on incomprehensible because masochism is by definition a desire to engage in activity that is violent to one’s own flesh.

The issue with both the question and the answers others were giving was the failure to acknowledge the necessarily collaborative nature of BDSM play. This was a point I made on the panel, although perhaps not as clearly as I could have. “A top requires a bottom, and a bottom needs a top to play with,” I said. Another panelist, Lola Sunshine, immediately took issue with my statement by offering the facile and contrarian assertion that “you can totally do BDSM on your own.” She then offered numerous examples of things she thinks is “BDSM on your own” such as self-suspension.

Once again, however, a core distinction was being repeatedly and ignorantly obscured. While I agree that a panel such as this was, to quote fellow panelist Maggie Mayhem, “a sharing of deliberately different experiences with ideas side by side,” it clearly does no “good” and potentially can do a significant amount of “bad” for a representative of the BDSM community to actively obfuscate important facets of BDSM, a topic they are presented as being not merely knowledgeable about, but expertly so. My objection to Lola’s disagreement was not an attempt to win a debate, as Maggie implies, but to illuminate where and how the question’s premise was flawed, and nowhere is such an attempt more pertinent than an expressly academic conference about sexuality.

If and only if “BDSM play” is understood specifically and exclusively as the experience of physical sensations does the question and the aforementioned panelists’s answers make sense. However, every experienced BDSM’er worth their weight in salt understands and should be able to articulate on an academic panel that BDSM can not be wholly understood as physical sensation alone—something Dean almost accomplished. As the panel facilitator was giving Lola the last word, I interjected, “It’s the same as the difference between (conventional) sex and masturbation.” I felt deflated because I was worried I was not understood.

To understand why self-harm has nothing to do with BDSM, there are two separate issues that need to be treated separately. The most obvious one, and the only one I felt was even recognized by others on the panel, is whether or not self-harm or BDSM is unhealthy. That’s an important question, but ultimately a distraction. The other issue, the one I was trying to bring to light, is far, far simpler yet goes even further in destroying the silly idea that BDSM is somehow an expression of self-harm.

To posit BDSM as self-harm (or, “self-abuse”), a position often advanced by anti-SM folk who like to capitalize on the fact that many BDSM’ers (including me, I’ll say publicly possibly for the first time) have a history of self-harm, is as ludicrous as saying masturbation is rape, not because masturbation is either negative or positive but because masturbation is necessarily a lone act and rape is not. Both BDSM and rape—regardless of any moral entanglements—necessarily involve multiple people. Self-harm, on the other hand, is by definition solitary.

Recall, for example, the process of negotiation and its importance to a successful BDSM scene. Even the very word “negotiation” underscores the involvement of more than one person. When viewed in its full capacity, BDSM play is an interactive social process in which players come to an agreement regarding their physical and emotional boundaries.

If you have some personal interest in BDSM, you may be able to find more examples from your own experiences. How many times have you “gone through the motions” during pickup play and ended the scene feeling unfulfilled? How many times have you tried flogging your own back, or spanking your own ass, and found the experience rather unmoving? If you’re anything like me, you probably felt like someone out of a Monty Python movie. Further, if such self-play is done in a public setting, most likely a club, then even lone acts become necessarily collaborative. How many times have you heard of tops and bottoms “enjoying the energy of spectators” in a dungeon?

Even where self-harm features in pop culture depictions of BDSM (such as in the movie Secretary), the two acts are markedly distinct.3 While it’s certainly the case that one can do bondage on one’s own, as Lola said, only the misguided argue that “having orgasms on one’s own” is the same as “having sex”; while the physical results may be similar in both circumstances, these are clearly different behaviors, possessing different motivations, and are approached in many different ways. Likewise, no matter the similarities BDSM acts and bodily harm may appear to have to uninvolved onlookers, it is obvious that they are different.

While we can (and many do) argue ’til the cows come home over whether or not self-harm is unhealthy, and we can likewise argue over BDSM, we would have to be ignorant or insane to argue that the two are similar.

  1. Audience members were given the opportunity to write questions anonymously on pieces of paper that were then collected and read to the panelists. [↩]
  2. Again, I’m paraphrasing from memory, so my apologies for any misrepresentation. [↩]
  3. In Secretary, Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character is fantasizing about James Spader’s character and tries spanking her own ass, but is disappointed by the result. [↩]