How Moving to Portland Helped Me Embrace My Kinky Side

When I was 22, I walked into a tent at Burning Man and watched a bondage troupe from Seattle perform a suspension routine. I hadn’t gone to the festival looking for kink, and so, absent any context, I found it intriguing, but more than a little bit boring. Did it really take that long to tie somebody up?

Yet, when I passed by the tent the next day, where the troupe was offering "bondage rides" to willing participants, I wanted in. I wanted to know what it was like to be tied up and suspended several feet off the ground, helpless, and half-naked in front of the gathering crowd.

Would it scare me? Embarrass me? Turn me on?

I wanted to try it … and yet I didn’t. Everyone else here seemed older, more confident, more experienced than I was. They would probably laugh at me if I walked in and asked someone to tie me up. I might be ready to do this someday.It could be decades until I reached that point. I might never get over my self-consciousness.

I felt the same about every other sexy, kinky, erotic activity I came across - at Burning Man, on the road, and back home in LA. Naked yoga classes? Might be fun to teach them when I’m in my 30s and feel more comfortable with my body. Nude modeling? Sure, if I ever find a photographer that I trust enough not to share the pictures without my consent.

For years, I kept dabbling in sex-positive communities, always looking over my shoulder to be sure no one was staring, taking pictures, or making fun. I wanted to be able to walk it back, to play it off as something I was only curious about, and not a thing that I was actually into.

My Journey Into Kink

Six years later; I’m 28 now. Yet, that process of educating myself, finding partners, and gaining confidence in my sexuality has happened faster than I ever thought possible. It didn’t come about from initiation ceremonies, expensive coursework, counseling, or anything like that. It came about from practice.

Skinny-dipping multiple times meant taking my clothes off was no longer scary. It became a habit. Listening to sex-positive podcasts that talked about boundaries and consent became second-nature. I learned that if you're respectful and accepting of other people's kinks, they will be respectful and accepting of yours.

It helps that I now live in Portland. As many as 4% of residents identify as kinky and have a profile on Fetlife. That’s 24,000 people in my city alone whose sexual interests fall somewhere outside the mainstream. The more connections I make within the community, the more my calendar is beginning to look like a never-ending trip to Burning Man. I no longer have to work so hard to add kinky adventures to my routine.