“I wish people knew that there are other flavors” Reflections on the representation of poly-kink in mainstream media by polyamorous kinksters in the Netherlands

Abstract

Although studies have remarked upon the increase in representation of kinksters and BDSM practices in mainstream media narratives, community voices indicate that these narratives do not provide an authentic portrayal of their community. This misrepresentation of kinksters results in stigmatization and forces the community to manage its minority stress. This article reflects upon the results from a series of interviews with Dutch poly-kink-identified participants about mainstream representations of their community. The participants agree on several main objections to this representation: mainstream media narratives ignore community norms, while they actively sensationalize and pathologize kink, and insist on stereotypical gender relations. Together, this representation undermines the transgressive potential of poly-kink relations and increases the stigmatization of this community.

Introduction

Even though popular media have become increasingly invested in representing different sexualities, the depiction of BDSM (Bondage, Discipline/Dominant, Submissive/Sadism, and Masochism) or kink has long remained relatively marginal. However, different studies indicate that this is changing. A significant cultural moment occurred in 2011, when E.L. James’ bestselling Fifty Shades of Grey was published. This erotic novel and the subsequent franchise became a worldwide success and brought BDSM to the main stage. There were knock-off books, movie adaptations sold out theaters, ¹ daytime TV presenters demonstrated and discussed sex toys on national television, ² and specifically themed Fifty Shades kink parties were thrown around the western world (Kratzer, 2020a). For the kink community, this was the beginning of a strange development. For centuries, BDSM has been considered a non-normative form of sexuality, one that has been highly pathologized (Lin, 2017). This pathologized understanding of kink pushes it to the margins of society’s understanding of acceptable sexual behavior. As such, the kinkster community shows all the signs of minority stress and stigma management (Newmahr, 2008; Stiles and Clark, 2011). The instant success of the Fifty Shades franchise meant a potential renegotiation of that marginalized position. However, reactions from within the kink community suggest that Fifty Shades does not present an authentic depiction of BDSM practices and relationships. Community voices report not only a disappointment regarding this important potential source for mainstream recognition of kink, but even an increased stress due to the faulty image of kink that mainstream audiences might walk away with due to the misrepresentation on this global scale.

In this study, we analyze the effects of this stigmatized representation of BDSM in popular media for the kink community based on a series of interviews with poly-kink-identified people in the Netherlands. Our research is set up to answer two central questions. First, how do kinksters in the Netherlands find themselves depicted in mainstream media? And second, how do they perceive the impact of this (mis)representation on themselves and their community? We build on important work that has previously been conducted on media representation of kink in the context of the US (Weiss, 2006) and the UK (Wilkinson, 2009) and extend this knowledge via the reflections of the Dutch community, which remains unrecorded in academic literature to date. The results of these conversations provide us with insights into the strategies that mainstream media apply to undo the transgressive dimensions of poly-kink practices and the stigmatizing effects that the community experiences as a result of these strategies.

Introducing the poly-kink community

The present study started out as an exploration of the Dutch kink community. However, it soon became apparent that polyamory was such a prominent feature of this community that it could not be ignored. In academic literature, there is a broad acknowledgement that the two categories often intersect. However, there is relatively little academic investigation of the poly-kink-identified community. In a literature review from 2016, Pitagora points to the historical connection between poly and kink communities, both in terms of origin and establishment and in histories of moral and pathological stigmatization (2016: 395-6). She finds three reasons for the frequent intersection in both communities: first, “central tenets of transparency, negotiation, and communication,” second, “openness to sexual and gender diversity and other non-mainstream identifications,” and third, “willingness to challenge social norms” (2016: 393). Although the focus of the present article will remain on kink, we take seriously the implications of this first basic feedback from our participants. Before we look at the instances of overlap in poly and kink in the community featured in this study, we introduce both categories separately, in order to create a clear image of our community.

Polyamory

Polyamory is a form of consensual non-monogamy (CNM). CNM is an umbrella term for any relationship that is not built on the concept of exclusivity and includes for example open relationships and swingers (Hammack et al., 2019, 559). While not unknown throughout human history, polyamory as a concept became widely known in the Netherlands and many other western countries in the 1990s. From this period on, active communities have been built around this notion (Hammack et al., 2019). Depending on individual choices, polyamory can be considered a form of sexual identity, orientation, practice and/or ideology (Pitagora, 2016; Klesse, 2014; Veaux and Rickert 2014). Carlström and Anderson argue that broadly “[t]he concept of non-monogamy aims to reflect a diversity of alternative relationship constellations that exist beyond the heteronormative” Carlström and Anderson (2019: 1316). It deviates from the romantic love model by subverting monoamory (or: dyadic monogamy) as institutionalized in the traditional Western marriage (Wolkomir, 2015; Hammack et al., 2019). Polyamorists “don’t have to follow a template for love that’s prescribed by a social environment” (Wolkomir, 2015: 431). Polyamory can take different shapes, including the well-documented love triangle and the hierarchical relationship that includes one primary partner (Veaux and Rickert, 2014; Easton and Hardy, 1997), but also less well-known forms, such as relationships between polyamorists and monogamists.

Kink ³

Kink is commonly understood as form of intimacy that includes consensual recreational power play and thereby “challenges normative ideas about power, equality and symmetry” (Hammack et al., 2019: 576). Although this exchange of power is an aspect of kink that is usually foregrounded in academic literature, our participants insist that it is not the only or even a necessary characteristic of kink. Participants point out that kink can include many forms of play, or: activities that incite excitement and pleasure (possibly of a sexual or sensual nature). There exists a large diversity in forms of play, including impact play, fear play, and shibari (a form of rope bondage that originated in Japan and has been incorporated in kink culture). Across this variety, there are some principles that bind together the kink community. Next to recreational power exchange, Hammack et al. point to three overarching elements: consent, social cohesion, and minority stress Hammack et al (2019: 576-9). We discuss these three characteristics below.

Consent is considered a primary norm in the kink community. It can be defined as “the communication of a free (from coercion) willingness to engage in a particular behavior given that an individual has proper knowledge of that behavior” (Leistner and Mark, 2016: 474). Consent is created through consent negotiation: an open and transparent conversation between all participants in which permission is requested and granted regarding play activities (Ortmann and Sprott, 2012). These conversations are considered a prerequisite for a safe environment for play. Both academic and popular literature stress the importance of safety, consent, and permission, which are often summarized as Safe, Sane, Consensual (or: SSC), and Risk Aware Consensual Kink (or: RACK) (Ortmann and Sprott, 2012). These key concepts in play Scenes ⁴ and relations are passed on within the kink community.

Social cohesion is an important dimension of the kink community. An important part of this cohesion is shaped via online platforms. The platform Fetlife (www.fetlife.com) has become an important online space where Dutch kinksters can meet (Kratzer, 2020b). The platform introduces itself as “Facebook, but run by kinksters like you and me. We think it is more fun that way” (Fetlife.com, 2020). Practically, platforms like Fetlife enable kinksters in the Netherlands to find each other and organize (offline) events such as munches (informal gatherings for anyone interested in kink), play parties (social events that facilitate kink play), and rope jams (meetings during which kinksters can practice rope techniques). Additionally, these platforms play an important educational role in spreading awareness about key values in the kink community and function as support systems for kinksters who encounter stigmatization in everyday society (Hammack et al., 2019). Newmahr (2010) argues that these platforms also allow for an exploration of kink as serious leisure, that includes practicing self-actualization, self-expression, and empowerment. As such, the social cohesion within the kink community helps to combat minority stress.

Minority stress in the kink community is a consequence of continuing stigmatization of kink in mainstream society. This results in a stereotyped understanding of kink that renders it largely taboo (Stiles and Clark, 2011). Ortmann argues that: ‘The mainstream view about S/M was always abusive, exploitative, and coercive. This pathologizing viewpoint is exemplified by psychiatric diagnoses of Sexual Sadism and Sexual Masochism, which earlier did not make any distinction between consensual versus nonconsensual activity’ (Ortmann and Sprott, 2012: 36). This stereotype about kink is enforced by the long history of medicalization around it. In her study on the histories of medicalization and demedicalization of kink, Lin shows that kinksters refrain from using certain stigmatized vocabulary such as “sadism” and “masochism” as identity markers, because they “have long been listed as sexual and psychological perversion by psychiatrists in their professional diagnostic manuals” (2017: 302). The medicalization of kink has resulted in hesitation and fear in kinksters to openly express their practices or preferences. Many kinksters shows signs of “stigma management” (Goffman, 1963) which manifests as “secrecy or information management as a means of coping with a deviant identity concerning sexual activities and one’s BDSM identity, a discreditable trait” (Stiles and Clark, 2011: 166).

Representing sexualities in media narratives

Media representations play an important role in the continuation of pathologizing kink in the public sphere and the subsequent continuation of minority stress in kink communities. With the increasing mediatization of many societies, critical theory has investigated how popular media shape dominant cultural narratives around sexualities and intimate relationships. In their critical reading of the Fifty Shades book series, Leistner and Mark point out how popular media works to set the standards for what is considered appropriate and desirable sexual behavior. They argue that “Media-reinforced cultural scripts about sexuality determine what sexual identities and behaviors are considered acceptable, normal, and good versus deviant, pathological, and bad” (2016: 465). Many studies have found that these scripts reproduce cultural narratives of heteronormativity. Heteronormativity is based on certain forms of (sexual) desire, but also moves beyond that into an organization of life around the principle of the family, understood as a long-lasting relationship between two people, invested in reproduction. Heteronormative narratives play an important role in positioning this structure as ideal and natural. Representations of alternatives to this structure, such as poly-kink, are therefore frequently perceived as threats. This narrative works to create a so-called “romantic love model,” described by Wolkomir as “a (heterosexual) bond in which ‘one and only soulmates’ share an intense emotional closeness and sexual attraction in committed monogamy.” (2015: 417) This model and its underlying ideology centers and privileges the hetero, monogamous, vanilla relation, while marginalizing any form of deviancy from this norm. In her discussion on the representation of kink in American media, Weiss observes that

Sexuality that falls within these boundaries is considered good, normal, and natural […] Bad, abnormal, unnatural, damned sexuality describes sexuality that is homosexual, unmarried, promiscuous, nonprocreative, commercial, alone or in groups, casual, cross-generational, in public, or with objects; these sexualities are stigmatized, pathologized, policed, and oppressed. (2006, 114)

These deviations are understood as forms of queerness, described by Hammack et al. as “notions that challenge or deviate enough from the normative to historically warrant social or legal condemnation and/or political opposition” (2019, 557). Queerness can therefore take many different forms, depending on the ways in which it deviates from the romantic love model; deviation is always inherent to the notion of queerness. As a result, accurate representations of queer relationships such as poly-kink that include this transgressive element are often received by mainstream audiences as threats to a sanctioned heteronormative system.

Media representations of poly-kinksters

Existing academic literature usually discusses the representation of polyamory and kink as two separate topics, with polyamory receiving far less attention (Barker and Langdridge, 2010). This might be because there does not seem to be a large amount of representation of the phenomenon in popular mainstream media such as movies, novels, TV series, or music videos. In 2001, Rubin observed this lack of depictions of “alternative lifestyles” since the 60s and asks “whatever happened to swingers, group marriages and communes?” (cited in Barker and Langdridge, 2010: 748). Since around that time, there have been a number of significant popular publications on polyamory including the now-classics The Ethical Slut (Easton and Hardy, 1997), More Than Two (Veaux et al., 2014) and others (e.g. Benson, 2008; Matik, 2002; Ravenscroft, 2004; Taormino, 2008). Although these books can be considered as popular publications (in contrast to academic publications), they all fit into a relatively niche subsection of popular culture. The books provide practical information and guidance to those interested in exploring polyamory. They introduce vocabulary, discuss obstacles, and guide discussions around the diversity in possible shapes of polyamorous relationships. Although they are widely available, these publications are primarily addressed to (aspiring) members of the poly-community. As such, polyamory, as an alternative to monogamy, remains largely invisible in media narratives for general audiences.

The representation of kink in popular media narratives has been more visible and varied. Different studies suggest that there has been an overall increase in media representations of kink since approximately the 1980s. Two explorations of this insurge of kink visibility in the United States (Weiss, 2006) and the United Kingdom (Wilkinson, 2009) find a great number of depictions of kink in different 21st century media genres, including Hollywood movies, sitcoms, advertisements, and popular music. Writing in 2006, Weiss notes not only a numerical increase in representation, but also an increase in variety of representations:

From the relative invisibility of SM 20 years ago, today these images appear in a wide variety of media, are used to sell a wide range of products, function in multiple ways, and encode a variety of contradictory personalities. (…) This shift means that representations of SM are no longer confined to shocking, exotic, and exciting depictions. (2006: 108-9)

Some oft-cited examples include the Hollywood movies Shainberg’s Secretary (2002) and Jarrold’s Kinky Boots (2005), music videos like Britney Spears’ I’m a Slave 4U, Lawrence and Spears (2001) and Matsoukas and Rihanna SandM (2010), and the Fifty Shades franchise that grew out to become a global phenomenon. ⁵ In their analysis of the Fifty Shades book series, Leistner and Mark point out that “The popularity of the series may provide an opportunity for discussing BDSM identities and educating the general public about sexual health through mass media” (2016: 465). However, after a close analysis of the ways in which the books represent kink, they conclude that this depiction is largely based on the notion that kink is both trauma-induced and psycho-pathological. These findings resonate with the larger studies into the media representation of kink in an American (Weiss, 2006) and a British (Wilkinson, 2009) context. Wilkinson therefore asks us to consider not only the number of representations, but also the ways in which this queer community is portrayed. She writes:

We should ask what form of SM is being portrayed and for what purposes. What existing narratives are these images framed within? Do these images challenge the sexual status quo, or do they reinforce SM’s otherness (or can they said to do both simultaneously)? (2010: 182)

The critical readings by Leistner and Mark, Weiss, and Wilkinson all demonstrate that an increase in visibility does not necessarily result in a more accepting or progressive attitude toward poly-kink relationships in mainstream society. In most instances, these representations do not accurately portray the poly-kink community as a queer community, that is, as a community that deviates from the romantic love model. These studies all find that most media portrayals of polyamory and/or kink either heighten the transgressive element of kink to such an extent that it is driven into the absurd, the comical, or the criminally dangerous (which invites audiences to disregard these practices all together), or the transgressive element is underplayed and undermined so that kink can ultimately be folded back into the romantic love model and the ideological structure that is built on this model. This suggests that these representations are primarily invested in upholding the existing structures that regulate love and desire, rather than acknowledging how transgressive ideas and practices can result in the kinds of meaningful relationships that exist in these queer communities. These strategies of (mis)representation of transgressive communities have a direct impact on the ways in which poly-kinksters experience and express their preferences, identities, and practices. Earlier research by Stiles and Clark (2011) explores the effects of misrepresentation of kink by media narratives on the kink community. They find that strategies of secrecy and concealment are practiced by the large majority of the group of American kinksters that participated in the study. These strategies are found to be necessary in order to negotiate the stigma associated with kink practices. The reasons for concealment range from self-protection and protection of others, to concealment as enhancement of experience. In order to provide poly-kinksters with a form of representation that enables identification and education, we therefore not only need visibility but also an accurate portrayal of the community as providing a transgressive and meaningful alternative to the heteronormative romantic love model.

Data collection and analysis

We gathered our data for this research through fourteen semi-structured interviews. The questions of the interviews are designed to address the participants’ experiences with the representation of the poly-kink community in mainstream media. We chose to use semi-structured interviews in order to allow room for adjusting the structure to individual experiences. Standardized interviews might not have done justice to the wide variety in experiences of our participants. Due to COVID-19 regulations, we conducted all interviews on an individual basis via digital platforms and took about 90 min. However, among our participants were two couples who lived together. These couples participated via two joined interviews.

When studying a community that faces marginalization in mainstream society, selection and approach of participants might prove a complicated task. For this study, we were in the fortunate position that one of us is an active member of the Dutch poly-kink-identified community. This position comes with the benefit of having knowledge about the dynamic of this community and the correct way of approaching possible participants. What is more, it removes barriers for potential participants who might otherwise have been hesitant to speak about their experiences with an outsider. The participants for this study have been selected via Fetlife.com, 2020, an internationally popular social media platform that focuses on BDSM, kink, and fetishism. In the Netherlands, it is the largest digital platform for kink and is known in the community as “Facebook for kinksters.” Fetlife reportedly has 8.8 million members and presents itself as “kinky heaven.” We posted a call for participants on the platform that included a set of four criteria. The participant 1. identifies as kinkster/BDSM; 2. identifies as polyamorous; 3. lives in the Netherlands; 4. is between 18 and 35 years old. The third and fourth criteria were used in order to acknowledge the divergent experiences of poly-kinksters in different countries ⁶ and different age groups. ⁷ The choice for the Netherlands and new-adult kinksters derived from our own personal connection with these groups. As the group we interviewed are not always comfortable to talk openly about their experiences, we attempted to make the conversations as convivial and open as possible, without losing the structure of our interview. From the group of relevant responses we received, we selected fourteen participants that represented a diverse representation in terms of gender and role.

Due to the potentially vulnerable nature of these interviews, ethical considerations were a prime concern during this study. Although polyamory and kink could still be considered taboo topics in mainstream society, we did not want our participants to experience this during our interviews. Following Leedy’s discussion on ethical research practices Leedy (2015), we took different precautions in order to protect our participants from harm. All participants were anonymized by using pseudonyms that are not linked to their (account) names. Throughout the project, we centralized informed consent (Hyde and Delamater, 1994): participants were continuously informed about the goals and set-up of the study and were invited to ask questions about any part of the process; they were informed about the use and storing of recordings of the interviews; and they were able to pull out of the project at any given time.

The interviews were transcribed and coded via an inductive thematic analysis (Braun and Clarke, 2022). With this analysis, we aimed to locate patterns in the way our participants talk about their experiences with media representation of the poly-kink community. After several rounds of checking and refining the coding, we identified four main categories. These four categories are community norms, notions of sensationalizing, notions of pathologizing, and gender relationships. In what follows, we make use of these categories to answer our two central research questions how do kinksters in the Netherlands find themselves depicted in mainstream media, and how do they perceive the impact of this (mis)representation on themselves and their community?

Findings

Before we discuss the four different ways in which our participants see media narratives misrepresenting their community, we want to acknowledge their frustration over the overall lack of public portrayals of the poly-kink community. One thing that all participants in the present study agree on is that they do not know of any mainstream media narratives that accurately portray the poly-kink-identified community as they know it. In response to the question: “What do you think of the representation of kink and poly in mainstream media?” our participants’ answers vary between “non-existing,” “barely present,” and “perhaps somewhat on the mend.” With regards to polyamory, participants struggle to find any examples. Frank exclaims “Just think of any Disney movie: prince finds princess, boy finds girl – in every movie!” Due to this lack of representation of polyamorous relationships, our participants focus on depictions of kink in mainstream media. Among our participants there seems no familiarity with media narratives that combine poly and kink. In the larger group of kink representations, none of our participants find any narratives that portray the community in a significant or representative manner. There are, however, many examples of movies that provide misrepresentations of kink. Three movies that are consistently brought up are Secretary (Shainberg, 2002), Eurotrip (Schaffer, 2004), and Fifty Shades of Grey (Taylor-Wood, 2015). One or more of these movies are mentioned by our participants in almost every interview. Although all three of these movies include depictions of kink, our participants explain that they all work to negate the transgressive elements of the community by positioning poly-kink within a heteronormative framework and as such do not provide relevant representations of their experiences in the community. The participants collectively contribute four distinct ways in which media narratives fail to portray kink as transgressive: first, they render community norms invisible; second, they sensationalize kink; third, they pathologize kink; and fourth, they insist on stereotypical gender relationships.

Ignoring community norms

The first of four ways in which participants claim that mainstream media misrepresent the poly-kink-identified community, is an absence of key community values such as consent and safety. These are key elements of kink play that require clear and open communication, which is often rendered invisible in media narratives. Our participants argue that the lack of these forms of communication and the lack of care that is taken with regard to consent and safety denies some of the most important elements of the community. During our interview, Vera remarks

I cannot think of a single TV series or film. There is altogether no depiction of the kink Scene in TV series or films. I don’t know any media narrative about the kink Scene. I literally don’t think that I have ever actually seen a realistic depiction of kink that discusses consent. And that is simply one of the most important things in the Scene, those discussions of consent. ⁸

In this, Vera and our other participants are in line with Ortmann and Sprott, who argue that anyone entering the kink community would quickly be initiated in these values: “Negotiation, safewords, aftercare, and the values of SSC or RACK are all practices and principles to manage BDSM Scenes in safe and ethical ways, and these are traditions that are learned as a curious novice is socialized into the wider BDSM communities” (2012: 39). The invisibility of the prime concern with consent and safety therefore already renders most depictions of kink in popular media unrealistic.

One of the media narratives that is mentioned several times in our discussions on consent is the movie Eurotrip. In the movie, protagonist Scott is an American teenager who travels to Germany to meet his female pen pal Mieke. Although the movie is not directly concerned with kink as a theme, the participants point to one particular scene that bothers them. In this scene, Scott ends up in the grips of a dominatrix. Without consulting Scott, she writes down a safeword and places it only just within reach of him. This safeword proves impossible to pronounce for Scott and he inadvertently ends up on an installation covered in dildos. Jordi remarks about this scene: “It is precisely that disrespect regarding the safeword that I find a very big ‘no go’. The same goes for consent.” ⁹ The absence of any respect regarding safewords and consent render the scene not only as inaccurate, but actively works to reproduce the stereotypical idea that kink would involve non-consensual violence.

At the same time, the scene renders this key value of the community as something comical and thereby as something that can be lightheartedly dismissed. Wilkinson (2009) argues that in the context of the UK, humor can play an important role in downplaying the transgressive nature of poly-kinksters. British television shows that portray kink often poke fun at the community. This strategy of ridiculing transgressive actions works to contain it by making it a joke. As such, the kinkster is transferred to a place that is primarily comical, a place that does not need to be taken seriously by the general audience.

Both Secretary and Fifty Shades of Grey undermine key community values in a different way from Eurotrip, according to our participants. Both movies include a particular power dynamic: the dominant party occupies a position of power and uses this position to control the submissive party. Evelien tells us

I think Secretary is a really bad example. It is often offered to starting kinksters as a must see. Fifty Shades is another one, by the way. They are bad because there is a lack of consent. Too much is decided upon by one person – in both cases a man in a powerful position. ¹⁰

Due to this initial situation, the negotiation starts from a moment of imbalance. This makes the negotiation unequal, which can lead to a non-transparent negotiation regarding desires and boundaries. In Secretary, we follow protagonist Lee Holloway who has recently been treated for physical self-harm. She is hired as a secretary by Edward Grey. The relationship starts out as strictly professional, but slowly develops into a sadomasochist relationship. Our participants point out that the fact that Edward is Lee’s boss means that there has not been an open and equal negotiation about consent, because one party has professional authority over the other. This undermines the notion of full consent that is central to kink relationships as an honest and ethical power relation requires a discussion about consent that is conducted in a setting of equal positions. Evelien explains:

The other person is persuaded to partake in the fantasy of the one in power. Instead of having a thorough discussion about consent that is done on equal footing, which is so very important when it comes to consent. ¹¹

Similarly, in Fifty Shades of Grey, we see how Christian Grey dominates Anastasia Steele before any form of informed consent has been established. Jip remarks “My biggest problem with Grey is that he is already dominating before there has been any negotiation.” ¹² Jip is not the only participant to point this out. In Fifty Shades of Grey, we see how Christian, who has already been in several kink relationships, presents Anastasia, who is new to kink, with a contract including rules of conduct and a checklist of hard and soft boundaries. Our participants argue that this is not the correct form of consent negotiation because of the unequal power relation. Christian dominates Anastasia throughout the conversation via small gestures and by positioning himself in an authoritative position (e.g. by commanding her to eat). Jip, who identifies as a top, explains during our interview that he always assumes a subordinate position during consent negotiation, both in manners and in physical position (e.g. by sitting on a lower chair than his partner). As such, he allows for both parties to have an open conversation. What is more, our participants claim that the contract suggests a static relationship that does not allow for the necessary flexibility. Kay argues:

It was very rigid, both in the sense of the flexibility you would need to change things in the future and to adjust things whenever you find that something is going well or you find that something that previously seemed as a boundary turns out to be something you are now interested in exploring. ¹³

Flexibility is important in kink relationships because boundaries and interests may vary from moment to moment and from person to person. This lack of any accurate portrayal of consent and negotiation suggest that the movie is not necessarily interested in doing justice to some of the key features of the community. Julia argues “Fifty Shades of Grey has an eroticization which makes it more of a fantasy. The result is that they do not really engage with negotiation and consent.” ¹⁴ According to Julia, Fifty Shades of Grey is primarily meant to function as an eroticized version of kink, meant to be consumed by vanilla audiences. As vanilla sex stresses eroticization over community values, the movie renders invisible those elements that are key to kink experiences, but do not resonate with vanilla audiences.

Sensationalizing kink

A second recurring observation made by our participants regards the sensationalized nature of the representation of poly-kinksters in mainstream media. These narratives work to frame poly-kink exclusively as an extension of sexual activity. However, our participants stress that sexuality can be a part of kink, but it is not a necessary element. Rather, kink relates to a set of relationships and activities that revolve around playful intimacy. This can manifest as sexual intimacy, but also includes other forms of intimate touching that might for example extend towards spiritual experiences rather sexual ones (cf. Kraemer, 2012; Fennell, 2018).

In the three movies brought up by our participants (Fifty Shades of Grey, Secretary, and Eurotrip), we find kink portrayed exclusively as an extension of the characters’ sexualities. A similar tendency is recognized in the portrayal of polyamory. Julia remarks

You also find those misconceptions in the media. Mostly in series about couples who decide to go open or poly, you always find these themes: the sex has disappeared, or they meet someone that they connect with sexually. So again, it is framed in a sexual context. ¹⁵

Both kink and polyamory are communicated to a mainstream audience framed as sexual practices, rather than forms of intimate playfulness. What is more, this sexualized version of poly-kink is often portrayed as excessively deviant. Media portrayals of kink often focus on extreme kinks. An example mentioned during the interviews is an episode of the popular Dutch TV show Je zal het maar zijn (2010) that documents people with deviant lifestyles. In their episode on poly-kinksters, the program features pony play and medical play, both of which are considered quite extreme kink practices by our participants. This sensationalized version of kink renders the representation unrealistic to many of our participants. They argue that this type of representation works to frame kink as a sexual practice that is so far removed from any recognizable mainstream practice, that it does not need to be dealt with in any respectful way. Rather, it allows mainstream audiences to derive pleasure from this seemingly bizarre practice. Frank explains “Documentary makers want their work to be seen, so if you can portray a more distinguishable character, people will say: I want to see this, because that is an oddball.” ¹⁶ Nadine adds “It presents a distorted picture, so you are not helping the case. As weirdos, as addiction, as abuse, as absurdity, as entertainment. Mostly that. The absurd as entertainment.” ¹⁷ Although this sensationalized version of kink does acknowledge its transgressive potential, these transgressions do not provide opportunities for developing an honest and representational narrative for the community due to its insistence on misleading deviancies in the poly-kink-identified community.

Wilkinson notes a similar strategy in the portrayal of poly-kinksters in UK media. Referring to Binnie (1994), Wilkinson recognizes the framing of the poly-kink world as “the twilight world of the sado-masochist” (2010: 185). This narrative uses a recurring script that contrasts the kinkster’s unattractive, suburban daily lives with descents into “seedy” sex clubs and swingers’ parties. She writes

These representations usually feature a male–female couple, usually suburban, to whom, presumably, we are not meant to feel sexually attracted (…), and also routinely feature unglamorized, ‘seedy’ locations such as sex clubs and swingers’ parties. Programmes such as these tend to oscillate between these two contrasting presentations of SM: titillating voyeurism or ‘freak show’. (2010: 185)

What is more, she points out that these depictions are often grouped together with narratives about other deviant sexual identities and practices, such as “swingers, porn stars and transvestites” (2010: 185). As a result, “[s]adomasochists and other sexual ‘deviants’ are often thrown together into one large group of sexual outcasts” (2010: 185). This strategy of representation provides entertainment for a mainstream audience while it works to estrange itself from the community it is supposed to represent.

Pathologizing kink

A third observation on the limits of the mainstream representation of poly-kinksters relates to the reductive portrayal of the community. Frank remarks: “The representation is one-sided in that it usually seems to exclusively focus on pain.” He explains that this insistence on pain in media narratives of kink informed his own understanding of kink before he became involved in the community. This preoccupation with kink as a sexually framed version of committing harm to each other’s bodies and minds is linked to the history of pathologizing kink. In this longstanding cultural narrative, kink is understood as an expression of someone’s desire to inflict pain on others. Often, this desire is understood as a coping mechanism for someone who has experienced pain themselves, often in the form of a childhood trauma (Lin, 2017). We find this narrative in both Fifty Shades of Grey and Secretary.

In Fifty Shades of Grey, Christian Grey’s kink relates back to sexual, physical, and psychological violence committed to both himself and his mother during his childhood. The narrative confirms the longstanding framing of kink as an expression of pathological trauma. Lily remarks about Grey: “I thought: OMG, you must be really fucked up to do this. But in his case that is kind of true.” ¹⁸ Tessa observes that a similar technique is used in Secretary: “The submissive woman has a psychological condition, because she performs auto mutilation.” ¹⁹ Again, we find a confirmation of the pathological framing of kink.

In her 2006 study on the mainstream representation of kink in the USA, Weiss recognizes this strategy of pathologizing kinksters in recent media narratives. In Secretary, the protagonist Lee Holloway is a young woman who has recently been treated for physical self-harm. The movie suggests that her play relationship with her boss allows her to stop cutting herself. Thereby, it makes a direct connection between behavioral disorders and kink and reproduces the mainstream idea that kink-identified people are damaged. This strategy works on a distinction between kink as a practice and kink as an identity. It allows a mainstream audience to engage in certain kink practices, while still pathologizing kink-identified people. Weiss explains

Presenting SM as a (pathological) identity rather than a practice works to shore up boundaries between normal and abnormal. Offering understanding through pathologizing, this representation reinforces boundaries between the person who might take a slightly kinky trip to Good Vibrations (a San Francisco sex store) and the full-on pervert with a sick core. It allows the normative viewer access and understanding to BDSM through a pathologizing, stigmatizing gaze. (2008: 119)

This strategy “allowed the normative viewer to understand SM only insofar as it is understood as a damaged, pathological identity.” (2008: 116) It is based on the idea that participating in some kink practices can be fun and exciting, but identifying as a kinkster must certainly be based in some deep-rooted trauma.

In her discussion on relationship intersectionality between poly- and kink-identified people, Pitagora argues that both communities have been positioned as pathologically deviant, be it in different degrees and forms. She writes

Though polyamory has not been pathologized in the literature to the extent that kink has been, academic, political, and popular discourses have historically presented essentialist mononormativity as the only morally correct relationship structure, and considerations for consensual non-monogamy are rare within mainstream psychology and therapy practices (Barker and Langdridge, 2010). (2016: 396)

Due to this normalization of mononormativity as a socio-medically approved relationship structure, polyamorous intimacies are quickly deemed unacceptable within psychological and therapeutic discourses. This can lead to direct social consequences, such as loss of employment or rejection by family and friends (Barker, 2013; Sheff, 2013; Crowe and Ridley, 2000).

Stereotyping gender roles

A final reductive strategy that our participants observe relates to the gender relationships in this representation. Media narratives representing kink confirm stereotypical gender roles by portraying men as dominant and women as submissive. We do not find portrayals of non-binary-identified kinksters or relationships that challenge traditional power structures between these binary identities. As such, these narratives ignore the participation of genderqueers in the poly-kink community and work to portray kink as a part of the romantic love model (Newmahr, 2008). Wilkinson shows that depictions of kink that have entered mainstream media narratives in the UK are often catered to the male heterosexual gaze. She argues that “these mainstream images could be read not as a sign of the acceptance of SM culture, but as part of a wider picture of an increasingly kinky, mainstream, heteronormative porn market” (2010: 184). In her early historical sketch of S/M pornography, Shortes (1998) demonstrates how certain kink practices and attributes such as bondage, leather wear, and collars, have frequently been included in pornography that was marketed to mainstream audiences since at least the 1970s. Kink arguably functions here as a “naughty” practice to be enjoyed by vanilla audiences. The eroticization of kink allows audiences to place it within the heteronormative model prevalent in mainstream media narratives. Similarly, Weiss notes that these portrayals allow vanilla audiences to take pleasure from kink, while distancing themselves from the transgressive kink community. She explains

[T]his mode of representation co-opts or appropriates SM to put a funny, cool, or hip twist on something essentially normative. These images do not challenge normative sexuality and relationships; rather they flirt with exoticism and excitement while reinforcing the borders between normal and not normal sexuality. (2010: 116)

This portrayal of kink as an extension of the heteronormative fantasy is confirmed by the insistence on monogamous relationships that our participants observe in mainstream media. This leaves very little room for representations of polyamory in relation to kink. Some of our participants point out that media narratives tend to focus on polygamy rather than polyamory. Polygamy differs from polyamory by being based on the notion of participating in multiple marriages. Because polygamy is a form of CNM that is structured around the notion of marriage, it is more easily consumable for a mainstream audience. One example of media representation of polygamy is the TLC series Sister Wives (2010). This reality TV show documents the life of the Brown family, including husband Kodi, his four wives Meri, Janelle, Christine, and Robyn, and their children. In this series, again, our participants observe an insistence on traditional gender relations. Amber remarks “There are shows such as Sister Wives, those are not good examples. You only see a man who marries multiple women. That is always the focus in media stories.” ²⁰ Programs like these insist on framing potentially transgressive relationships within the context of normative notions of binary gender identities, traditional gendered power structures, and socially sanctioned relationship structures such as the western marriage.

In her study on the reception of the movie Secretary, Weiss finds that non-kink-identified audiences respond to the portrayal of the kinksters in the movie as fundamentally normative. In this American context, the normalization is not so much directed to the “young, heterosexual, male” esthetic that Wilkinson described in the UK context (2010: 182), but rather to an American normativity that focuses on monogamous commitment. While the movie depicts a man and a woman in a play relationship, the story ends with the both of them in a monogamous marriage and living in the suburbs of an American town. Weis argues that “[i]n this way, Secretary offered a glimpse of something sexy and exciting that, in the end, was not alienating, was just a traditional – if odd – love story” (2008: 114). By refocusing on heteronormativity, rather than kink, in the closing moments, the movie works to undermine the transgressive elements of the relationship.

As it was, the film’s happy ending redeemed BDSM by refolding it back into normative constructions of sexuality, thus making the representational argument that SM/nonnormative sexuality is acceptable as long as it turns out, after all, to be not-SM/normative sexuality. The images presented at the end of the film recuperate SM back into the tightly bounded, enforced, and policed norm of American sex and intimacy. (2008: 115)

Weiss therefore concludes that Secretary does allow non-kink-identified audiences to accept kink, “but only insofar as it could be normalized” (2008: 115).

Conclusion

As we see depictions of kinksters in mainstream media increase, this study analyzes how a small selection of participants from the Dutch poly-kink-identified community experiences these portrayals. While our participants acknowledge an increase in visibility, they also stress that important dimensions of kink relationships remain invisible. Most notably, the strong connection between kink and polyamory is largely neglected in these portrayals. As our participants experience these two categories as meaningfully interconnected, the isolation of kink in media representations constitutes a big oversight. What is more, participants argue that mainstream media often work to undo the transgressive dimensions of poly-kink practices, presumably to make them consumable for vanilla audiences. Participants reflected on four main strategies that are used. First, media representation works to either ignore or render comical the notions of consent and negotiation in the poly-kink-community. These core values are important sources for transgression that are negated by mainstream media narratives in favor of portrayals of consent negotiations that are predetermined by traditional socio-cultural power structures or treated as slapstick humor. Second, media representations work to sensationalize poly-kinksters by presenting kink solely as an extension of their sexualities, thereby ignoring the transgressive potential kink has for rethinking intimacies in general. What is more, it renders the practice irrelevant by presenting it as something so deviant that it is contained as an entertaining but ultimately bizarre freak show. Third, media representations pathologize kink by connecting it with trauma and (involuntary) violence. By differentiating between kink as an identity and kink as a practice, media narratives invite mainstream audiences to consume kink from a safe distance. Vanilla audiences are usually positioned outside the poly-kink community, while taking pleasure in kink as a way to spice up their sexual practices. Fourth, media narratives deny the transgressive potential of poly-kink-relationships by insisting on stereotypical heteronormative gender roles. As a result, these narratives represent them as relationships that ultimately fit within the romantic love model and therefor pose no threat to general heteronormativity.

These strategies ultimately deny accurate representation of the poly-kink community. Participants lament this lack of accurate representations of community values but they seem even more concerned about the idea that mainstream audiences might not be aware of the inaccuracy of the portrayal. Frank explains “When this kind of behavior is normalized by the media and defined as a part of a BDSM relationship, while there is absolutely no question of a healthy BDSM relationship, then that influences people’s perceptions.” ²¹ Due to these discrepancies between media portrayal and the experiences of the poly-kink-identified community, our participants argue that the movies do not allow much opportunity for either identification or education. Our participants thereby echo Wilkinson’s concerns about the appropriation of community values “We must be constantly aware that there is a very real danger of a parallel ‘SM-normativity’, in which certain (capitalist and consumerized) conceptions of SM become the norm.” (2010: 187) In order to facilitate any form of education, identification, or pride for both the community and mainstream audiences, we need visibility of the poly-kink-community that authentically depicts its transgressive dimensions. One participant, Nadine, succinctly expresses this desire when she remarks “Monogamous culture is difficult because there is zero understanding for other forms. And I understand monogamy, I do. I just wish people knew that there are other flavors’.” ²²