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.

Fact is we connect to others by learning about them. And everyone has something to share (even if it is a story about that time they fell down the stairs in the middle of lecture).

So to give you yet another reason to procrastinate, we started ‘The Five Questions We Ask Everyone’ (plus five for that special someone) because we know whether we’re schmoozing with an A- list celeb or your local bartender, you’ll be equally entertained.

Lena is the author of SexandtheIvy.com, a blog about sex and dating at Harvard University. She started blogging back in 2006, sparking immediate controversy on campus and off. Lena received lots of attention for her saucy ways and has since been featured as a commentator on college sexuality in The New York Times, Newsweek, The Boston Globe, Salon, and Playboy Radio. She currently blogs at TheChicktionary.com. 

1.      What is your most hysterical/ridiculous college memory or the most trouble you’ve ever gotten into?

A tie between dating my former teaching assistant and my psycho ex posting naked photos of me online. I swear I don’t try to be a cliche; my life just turns out that way.

2.      Five things you can’t live without

Wifi, sushi, my boyfriend’s bulldog, eight hours of sleep a night, and the spotlight.

3.      What’s your motto/advice you live by?

Never put off until tomorrow who you can do today. In other words, it’s okay to f**k on the first date. The first (and only) time I did this, I moved in with the guy six months later.

4.      Your favorite song to belt out at the bar/in the car/for karaoke?

“You Give Love A Bad Name,” Bon Jovi

5.      Ten years from now you will be….

Hiding out from Google under an assumed name.

6. Why did you start writing Sex and the Ivy?

Because I didn’t think anyone would actually read it. In retrospect, that was a really stupid assumption.

7. What is the craziest sex experience you have ever had?

Losing a condom inside myself for 48 hours.

8. What are some lessons you have learned as you’ve worked on this blog?

That I shouldn’t publicly own up to things like losing a condom inside myself for 48 hours.

9. What is next for you?

Best case scenario: writing a memoir. Worst case scenario: writing my own Wikipedia entry.

10. Best piece of sex advice for the CollegeCandy readers?

Anyone who claims they’re qualified to give sex advice probably isn’t. But if you’re listening anyway: get vaccinated for HPV.

In a recent New York Times article titled “Students of Virginity,” about college students who choose to abstain from sex, one founder of the Harvard abstinence club said, “We wanted to make abstinence look fun; interesting.” OK, I understand how abstaining from sex can be safer than actually having sex. But abstinence is fun? I wasn’t aware.

Choosing to abstain from sex until marriage is a personal choice you make, and I’m not quite sure I understand the need for abstainers to work on convincing others that their way is best. On Valentine’s Day 2007, members of the True Love Revolution sent out valentines to freshman girls saying, “Why wait? Because you’re worth it.”

So, you’re telling us we need to save ourselves for marriage because we’re worth a lot…and by not waiting, we’re lessening our worth? Whoa. Will men not want to be with us because we’re, gasp, tarnished? This year, they sent the valentines to both freshman women and men. So, now it seems we’re all lessening our worth by having sex.

Janie Fredell, president of the True Love Revolution at Harvard asks, “Why bond yourself so intensely when you’re not sure you’re going to spend the rest of your life with this person?” which is, to some, a valid point. But to others, sex does not necessarily mean intense boding. And in this day and age, let’s be honest, marriage does not always mean forever. Is there ever a time when you can be sure you’re going to spend the rest of your life with a person? Should we be so cautious in life that we pass up every chance to love as fully as we can because, this might not last forever? Or should we live in the moment, enjoy our sexuality smartly, and learn to deal with our broken hearts and bruised egos?

Then again, Fredell seems to have a way of dealing with her sexual urges that the rest of us could maybe learn from. According to the article, “Whenever sexual urges struck…she was able to manage them by going on a long run and assumed that everyone should be able to do the same. ‘The biological drive can be overcome,’ she said. ‘It’s not like it reaches a peak, and you have to go out and have sex.’” Wow. I wasn’t aware you could repress your sexual urges and didn’t absolutely need to have sex. Maybe I should try that whole running thing when the urge strikes me.

According to Fredell, “It takes a strong woman to be abstinent, and that’s the sort of woman I want to be.” I tend to be more on the side of Harvard student and Sex and the Ivy blogger, Lena Chen who says, “For me, being a strong woman means not being ashamed that I like to have sex…to say that I have to care about every person I have sex with is an unreasonable expectation. It feels good! It feels good!”

Really, I think being a strong woman means making your own choices. Being a strong woman means having sex when you choose to and not when some guy is pressuring you to. And being a strong woman is choosing not to have sex because you don’t want to, not because some organization is pressuring you.

I would never look down on someone’s decision not to have sex and hope nobody would look down on my decision to have sex. And really, if you have ways of showing me not having sex is fun, by all means, bring them on.

Just as soon as I get back from my run.