It’s no secret among my friends that I like being treated aggressively in the bedroom, but sometimes, I feel like I’m the only girl I know who likes getting roughed up. Perhaps that’s because my sexual propensities really are that rare, but more likely, it’s because a taboo against BDSM still exists.

Rachel Kramer Bussel, who recently wrote on The Frisky about a newly discovered desire to be choked during sex, notes that “Women, especially feminists, aren’t supposed to say they like rough sex … [There's a] misconception that consensual BDSM is a precursor to violence.” That’s something I know all too well. Last year, I blogged about an instance of rough sex on my website, Sex and the Ivy. While my entries often receive mixed reviews (because some disagree with my decision to write publicly about my sex life), I was surprised by the number of commenters who were outraged by this piece. Some of the reactions included:

“This could easily be a police report with the victim recounting a rape.”
“You deserve better.”
“True love does not seek to demean the other person.”
“The fact that he even desires to treat you this way is disgusting.”

Some commenters even engaged in a discussion about whether my account of being jerked around was effectively condoning rape. I wondered how it was possible that any of them could misconstrue my writing to mean that I was implicitly endorsing misogynistic attitudes — or worse, that I was in an abusive relationship. Beyond my irritation at being misinterpreted, I was extremely troubled by the judgments made about my sexual partner at the time, who’s my now-boyfriend and the type of political radical that would put most American “liberals” to shame. Before him, I had a hard time meeting guys who weren’t dismissive of my feminist views and my passion for LGBT activism. Pulling my hair and choking me during sex (at my request) hardly means that he doesn’t respect me or value equality. In fact, ours is the most egalitarian relationship I’ve ever had, and I’m someone who’s especially sensitive to gender issues.

When I wrote the piece, I didn’t think that my bedroom practices were too out of the ordinary, since nothing I’ve done has even approached hardcore BDSM and I really don’t have very interesting fetishes considering that I write a lot about sex. It surprised me, then, that people reacted so strongly to what I considered a rather tame example of rough play. After all, who hasn’t made jokes about spanking? How could BDSM still be considered on the fringe despite the appearance of dominatrixes in television and movies? Has it really remained that controversial given the amount of bondage gear on sale at Babeland? (But maybe none of these people were shopping at Babeland.) I was appalled by the conservatism on display and dismayed by the ignorance. A common mantra of BDSM culture is “Safe, Sane, and Consensual”, something I thought everyone knew about, but even a prominent disclaimer failed to convince the critics that I’d truly provided my consent.

And perhaps, that was what bothered me most of all. These commenters, who decried my partner as “disgusting” and my relationship as “demeaning”, were simultaneously refusing to recognize my agency in an interaction that took place between two people. Rough sex wasn’t anti-feminist; this was. I said that I had consented to all the activities, yet they refused to believe that could be true. Instead, they assumed that my partner must have somehow pressured me into it, that I couldn’t possibly have played an equal role in shaping our sexual interactions.

Not everyone may enjoy rough sex, but that doesn’t automatically make it unethical or anti-feminist, just as vanilla sex isn’t boring simply because I don’t like it. Regardless of preferences, no one is qualified to have an opinion on the consensual activities that take place in someone else’s bedroom. In other words, if you don’t judge me enjoying a good spanking (and I enjoy a good spanking), I won’t judge you for liking missionary.

Once upon a time in late 2006, I really needed a job. I hopped on Craigslist, blindly sent out a couple of resumes, sat back and watched the replies roll in. One such interview opportunity came from Soho’s own Pleats Please by Issey Miyake store. Why would anyone want to wear that many pleats?, I asked myself, unable to shake the image of Alicia Silverstone in Clueless from my head. So I never responded. And now I am regretting it. Not only have I discovered how the high-fashion futuristic feel of tiny knife pleats is about as far as one can get from looking like a “Baby One More Time” video reject; I have also learned that the construction of tightly-pleated fabric allows it to stand up and out in a way that wouldn’t otherwise happen with the same material components! Plus, the brand name is polite! Check out how Miyake’s pieces are made!

I know not everything I write about will be wearable or, mostly, affordable, for most college students, or most people. But, if you’re willing to try, there are probably plenty of look-alikes available at your local thrift shop. I just picked up a metallic blue crumpled/pleated dress at The Vintage Thrift Shop in Flatiron and a to-die-for black pleated scarf from Reminiscence in Chelsea. The aforementioned aren’t even wildly-priced designer vintage spots, but mid-to-low-priced stores, devoid of pretentious waif-like salesgirls to boot. SVA students, I hope you’re listening!

Concept: Weird/romantic fetish wear, a la Secretary

Remember when I implied that George Clooney was hot? Well, my hot old guy allegiance really lies with a man god by the name of James Spader. In 1996′s Crash, Spader played a man strangely turned on by car wrecks. On some serious TV show that I’ve only watched once because I saw his face while channel surfing, he played a very, very naughty lawyer — I think. And in 2002, he starred as Maggie Gyllenhaal’s sadomasochistic boss in critics’ darling Secretary.

A lot of people I know think Maggie Gyllenhaal kind of resembles a Pekingese. I think she is hot, sexy, serious about her craft and one pinchably-adorable mom. In any case, the outfits she wore in Secretary started out as drab (or, like, Chloe Sevigny’s character in Big Love) and, with just a shot of vulgarity, became the most interesting getups I’ve ever seen. Again, obviously, wearing (matte! Please keep it matte and out of the realm of PVC!) latex or a gag bit might be a bit of a distraction from your 11 AM calc lecture, but there are ways to spice up your standard going-out outfit.

What about a pair of seamed stockings (seen on the Secretary movie poster) with an otherwise demure, floaty floral frock, or some extra sharp stilettos with your skinny jeans and cardigan? The trick is to keep most of your look almost granny-sweet, and then to throw ‘em off with one telltale bad girl piece.

Just don’t file any lawsuits if you twist your ankle in those 5-inch pumps.

Have I got the sex toys for you.

G-Spot Link Cuffs – You take these Velcro babies and lock them around your ankles. Supposedly, it makes “the missionary position” a lot more fun, since it allows your partner to “adjust the positioning” of your legs for maximum effect.

My verdict: Who lacks so much muscle that they can’t keep their legs up on their own accord?

The Doggie Style Strap – (yeah, that’s what it’s called) This strap is designed to go underneath the torso of whoever’s receiving…allowing the “giver” to stop suffering from the rampant backache and exhaustion that apparently comes from going at it from behind.

My verdict: HOW LAZY ARE YOU?!

Rubber Latex Hood – In case your fantasies include having sex with someone in a scary black hood, this product restricts the breathing of the wearer and makes “talking difficult”, allowing the whole escapade to be “more erotic for you and your partner”.

My verdict: I think I saw this once on Law and Order: SVU…and things didn’t go so well.

Make Your Own Penis Kit – If liquid rubber is a part of your sexapades, then this kit is for you. It comes with everything a girl would need to make an “exact replica” of her partner’s Mr. Wankey.

My verdict: private parts and rubber cement seems like an awfully dangerous combination. There’s nothing hot about ripping glue off of your guy’s goods.

The Houdini Chastity Device – watch your boy jump for joy as you clamp his manhood into a “100% stainless steel” chastity device. This little sucker will keep him from having a full erection for as long as you desire.

My verdict: Besides the occasional ex-boyfriend we’d all like to strap this onto and “accidentally” lose the key, I can’t see why anyone would want to clamp this onto anyone.

I Rub My Duckie: Paris – A vibrating duck that comes with “a genuine Swarovski crystal embedded in its beak” and “detachable feather boa”, users can obtain stimulation without ever having to own one of those obvious vibrators.

My verdict: I’m not sure how those sensitive areas are going to react to that feather boa…and using a childhood toy to achieve orgasm seems wrong in so many ways. That Sesame Street segment is now officially ruined.