Presentation Matters

When it Comes to Welcoming Newbies, Style Points Count.

Last week, I rattled on about community and some ways we can use technology to reintroduce ourselves to the world of the non-virtual. The internet and our cell phones have been comforting escapes and vital resources for at least three years, depending on our level of extroversion during the Before Times. They’ve kept us connected at least in spirit and can now help us create bridges between the two worlds.

But what happens when we face each other once again?

What can we, as socially out-of-practice sex-positive people, do to both reconnect with those we already know, as well as provide a welcoming environment for those we don’t? Leaders, organizers, and activists who have been paying attention have likely noticed that what we used to call “the community” has changed since March 2020. People have died, moved away, started families, aged out, gotten burned out, and just decided that the world is too risky to deal with right now.

This is where I start getting cranky.

The people who do leave the relative safety of their homes to meet others in public are walking the wild frontier these days when it comes to some people’s manners. I’m not surprised by a little attitude from a short-staffed minimum wage worker with no benefits who puts up with entitled pricks all day, but I have this childlike hope that those of us who believe that Representation Matters also believe that Presentation Matters.

WTF does “Presentation Matters” mean?

Just as I think it’s important that the voices of sex workers, ethical non-monogamists, kinksters, BIPOC, and LGBTQ+ people be heard directly instead of through the filter of white cis men, I think style points count. So much depends on how we present ourselves.

I don’t just mean whether your pants are clean, or you’ve blown your nose before going in for a kiss because I don’t know your personal fetishes and preferences. I prefer clean pants and blown noses, but that’s just me. I mean whether we choose to use our best and most compassionate manners or not.

Do we, especially those of us who are higher profile within our healing communities, behave in a manner that reflects well upon the community we claim to represent? Do we make people just starting their sex-positive journey feel welcome and comfortable sharing their stories? Do we bother to listen to their stories?

Maybe it’s the whole “fallen Catholic girl with a drill sergeant daddy who believed aliens made us” thing, but I grew up with a lot of messages about propriety, responsibility, dignity, loyalty, integrity, and other words that end with “y” and come loaded with emotional baggage. But, after decades of careless filtering, I’m beginning to see the value in these values when not taken to extremes.

When we earn a title, agree to host a munch, sign on to moderate a discussion or support group, declare ourselves educators worthy of students, take on the halls of power, become a member of the board, or engage in other acts of service, we become the faces of a collection of people who, by and large, are still afraid to show theirs. Not just because of COVID, but because while we are sex-positive and likely want to craft a sex-positive life, the world around us is still pretty fucked up about sex. And relationships. And communication.

That means it’s our unpaid job to be on, if not our best behavior, at least good behavior. Be attentive to those new to events, especially get-to-know-the-community type social mixers. Go light on the fragrance. Be mindful of personal distance bubbles. Take the time to learn and remember people’s pronouns. Don’t get stupid drunk or stoned during official functions. Maintain confidences. Respect boundaries. And, for the love of all that is sex-positive, introduce yourself to the people at events who you don’t recognize.

The truth is that we do recruit. Or we await those who seek us. Something like that. We don’t have biological matriarchies or patriarchies that pass down sex-positivity, although we certainly hope that any offspring we have don’t go bad and vote against their own self-interests.

We create leather families, poly households, friends with benefits, and more in order to form a more perfect union. We strike commemorative lapel pins, embroider club patches, wear wedding rings on our fingers and collars of submission around our necks to mark important moments, transitions, or commitments. But we need to provide a social place where people want to be in order to have anything resembling a community.

This isn’t meant to be me standing on a soapbox shaking my finger in disapproval and presenting myself as a divine personage of ethical and social infallibility. This is me feeling passionately about the pervy, sexy, brave, wonderful people who identify as sex-positive finding one another and remembering the gift that a friendly face, a welcoming smile, and a quick explanation about what’s going on can be to a nervous newbie or veteran returning to scene.