Call Me By My Name

If someone calls me a bitch, pussy, cunt, or fag, I’m coming for them. If Sir does it, I just come. It’s funny the different reactions the same words cause depending on the situation. When I’m in sub space, I am that fag, cunt, or pussy. Hearing Sir call me that just reinforces our power exchange and puts me even deeper into my sub head. It turns me on to no end. I want Him to refer to my ass as His cunt and to me as His bitch.

Growing up, I was bullied a fair bit and severely by one particular kid in my class. He often called me a fag or a faggot. But even worse, he called me queer. Queer was his favorite taunt. I got so fucking angry at him. It hurt, deeply. I didn’t know I was gay, but it still made me feel ashamed and angry. This went on for years, until one day I had finally had enough and kicked him hard in the nuts (seriously, I went full Jackie Chan). No one called me queer after that and I learned that confronting a bully is the best way to deal with it. You can’t let them get away with it. Back then, bullying was just accepted as a normal part of life. Anyone who didn’t quite fit in was bullied, and no one did anything about it. After complaining, I was told by the school counselor that it was my fault for being too artsy, too nerdy, too studious, and that I should, essentially, man up. It was suggested I play more sports. Here’s the thing, I have a form of akinetopsia. I cannot tell where an object flying towards me actually is, which, I can assure you, makes playing baseball a frightening experience. But bullies are, in general, extremely insecure about themselves and bully others to make themselves feel better. No secure human has a need to degrade someone else. Standing up to them usually causes them to crumble. In his case, a severe bout of induced testicular pain ended my torment. Seeing him doubled over on the ground felt good, I’m a bit ashamed to admit (not that ashamed, he fucking deserved it).

I wasn’t the most bullied kid in the class, by far, but my tormentor was ruthless, until I pushed back. He avoided me like the plague after that, and I was fine with it. I got a FB friend request from him a while back. I laughed out load and hit delete.

It seems odd to me that the same words that caused me so much pain as I child can cause me so much pleasure as an adult. With Sir, I want to be degraded. I want to be His object, His toy, and His possession. It’s highly erotic, in that context. Perhaps because I am giving Him consent to use those words, they don’t have the same meaning.

There’s one word that still bugs me no matter what. I still hate the term queer. It’s the most common word that people used to bully me. It was meant to harm. I understand people reclaiming it as they reclaim their power, but for me, queer is like the “n” word. Cerebrally, I understand it, but viscerally, I deeply dislike it. I don’t think young people really understand how hateful that term was. But perhaps they do. Perhaps that’s the point. I’m not judging, merely commenting. I did shout it with Act Up in the 80’s and 90’s. “We’re here, we’re queer” was catchy, but I didn’t like it one bit. I don’t feel empowered by that term.

I’m rambling. I guess my point is that context matters, but even in the right context, some words are still hurtful to people, so I avoid them and I cringe when I hear them, even in a now acceptable usage. For me, queer will always have a negative connotation, regardless of the context. I admire people for reclaiming that word, but it just evokes such a visceral response in me and makes me feel like that bullied 8 year old again. I’m trying to get past it.


Published by Locked Doc

Middle aged switch reclaiming his kink and exploring Bdsm with both his husband and his Master. Always locked.

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