Ownership
or...why, after I fought so hard to own myself, I’m so willing to give it up.

There’s no sense in denying it. For the better part of my 38 years, I considered myself a feminist. I belonged to NOW (hell, I was president of our local chapter two years running), I devoted myself to the causes I believed in (and still do), and I stood beside the other feminists when they fought for the things they thought they needed, even the things that I thought were hokey or unnecessary. I did protests, wrote letters to the editors, and appeared on local TV debate shows and news broadcasts. I was a rabble-rouser. I stood for something.

Then I found D/s, and my life changed. But I still considered myself a feminist. Until I found out that NOW had an anti-SM policy (see this website for my experience trying to change that) . It caused me to rethink my whole attitude about who I was, and what I wanted. (I do still have many of my “feminist” ideals, but no longer use ‘that word’ in describing myself)

People are different. What makes one person content will make another unhappy. I realized, after all those years of being my Feminist Self, I really wanted to have a relationship where there was a leader and a follower. My ex-husband and I had an equal partnership on every level and it did not work. I’d tried it before him, and those relationships, too had failed. When I set my feminist ideals aside, and took a clear look at what I wanted, the outcome shocked me. I rejected that “answer” for a long time. I kept thinking about it, trying to find a loophole I had missed. I couldn’t cut loose of the definitions that I had been given throughout my life.

Six years later, I still haven’t found the loophole. I no longer believe there is one.

I love words. I love writing them, reading them, defining them. Words are magic for me. Unspoken words leave holes in me, even when it’s by my own will that I am unable to say them. I’ve said before that when C met me the first time – in that goofy Motel 6 in Lincoln Nebraska – halfway between our homes – he told me he wanted a Master/slave relationship and I balked. At that time, I was still “a feminist”. I still harbored doubts that there would ever be a man in my life that I would be comfortable enough with that I could call myself a slave.

Obviously, I’ve learned differently. Because here I am, talking about it. Again.

I’m a smart woman. I’m intuitive, I’m bright and witty, I’m quick. I no longer feel like I have to give that all up to be a slave – when initially, I thought that’s exactly what I’d have to do. I always told myself that I’m smart enough to make my own decisions – I don’t need anyone else to do it for me. But I was missing the point, and woefully inaccurate in my understanding of being a slave – of being owned – of being property.

I could go into detail and explain to y’all what I used to believe about being a slave, but it seems so erroneous now that I can barely manage to think about it, let alone write about it.

However, the one thing that I kept coming back to – as I read (and lord knows, some of the bullshit out there on the web about slavery is dangerous to people’s belief systems and sensibilities.) about other people’s experiences with slavery, is that they seemed to be giving up their responsibility for their lives – i.e., “I didn’t make the car payment because he told me not to, and now I’ve lost my car, and it’s all his fault” …uhhh…what? Let’s see – you surrendered yourself to him, he told you to do a stupid thing, and it’s his fault. I see. Where’s your mother? She needs to be slapped for raising an illogical fool. (Don’t write me and tell me that there are all sorts of reasons that a Master might tell her not to make a car payment. I know that. It’s an example. I use them a lot.). They were “forced” to believe that “Master knew best” and were unable to give any input into their relationships. They were held accountable for things they had no control over (for instance, a check being delayed in the mail). These things would bother me greatly. I have a logical mind. I can’t try to cram something illogical in there and make it work. I’m just not built that way….

…then I thought….neither is C. Hmmm…

This isn’t really a recent thing with me. It’s been hanging around inside my head since C and I got back together over 3 years ago. I’ve tried a few times to verbalize this to him, but failed miserably, because until recently, I couldn’t put the words (my beloved magic) together to explain to him how I feel. I’m still not sure I have them right, but I believe them to be more accurate than before.

I want to be owned.

Whew. I’ve never said that out loud before. (Well, I still haven’t, because I only typed it, but you get the point).

I want to be owned. I want to be in a relationship where, while I am valued for my contributions, my first responsibility is to please. I no longer see being owned as a negative thing – no longer envision being unable to be my quick-witted, sarcastic self. I no longer see surrender as meaning I cannot be who I am. That was, I suppose in all honesty, my biggest fear about being a slave/being owned. It took so many years for me to allow myself to BE myself, that I feared total surrender would mean giving that up. I no longer worry that I would be forced to give up the parts of myself that I like, because in reality – those are parts of me that C likes, too. C would never suppress my writing or my humor. He appreciates me for who I am, and in being owned by him, I wouldn’t have to worry about having to be “someone else”. I can say with all honesty that I’ve never had any relationship before that allowed me that.

I’m not kidding myself here. There are things about me that he doesn’t like. My self-deprecating attitude (which peers out into the daylight far too often for his liking – but not nearly as much as it used to), my struggle with my weight, my constant need for “something to do.”

I also know that it would not be an easy transition for us, considering our time restrictions and our other commitments. And frankly, I’m not certain that this is something that C would even be interested in taking into our lives right now. I’m fully prepared for that, as well, and full prepared to wait for a time when we are more capable of exploring it fully.

But I want to put it out there. No, I take that back. I *need* to put it out there. It’s been living inside my head for far too long on its own. All this writing I’ve been doing as of late has been very cathartic for me. It’s opened a lot of doors in my mind – to things that had been closed (either by myself or by my own fears or by other people I had misguided trust in), and it’s forced me to look deeply at things that I wouldn’t allow myself to consider in the past. It’s required me to be *honest* with myself. While it’s hard for me to do this exploration, and to have C so far away while I walk through it, I know that were he here, I might not have made the leaps and bounds that I have. It’s because my life is *quiet* right now that I am able to do this. I don’t know if I could have gotten to the point of being able to write my desires and fears about slavery and ownership six months ago. I’m grateful for the ability to do it now. Grateful, and scared. Because frankly I don’t know how he’s going to take it.

I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?

It’s taken me two days to write this and post it. It’s been a difficult thing to verbalize (uhh…you know what I mean), and admit to. But as I’m working on my self-image and my self-knowledge, these things are bound to rise to the surface, and need to be explored. I live with a lot of guilt – for many things, in many areas of my life. I’m working through that. In letting things like this out, I’m working on the guilt-pile that says “You hold back too much.” The pile is getting smaller. Pretty soon, I’ll be able to sweep up the remnants into a dust pan and toss them out. I look forward to that.