Are We Too Inclusive?

A frank reassessment of why certain sexual communities may sometimes thrive better when they stop trying to be everything to everyone.

Recently, a gay men’s kink reading discussion group reached out to me and asked if they could use an old post of mine, that they had found on my longtime dormant blog site, as their reading and discussion material for their next meeting. I hadn’t looked at what I had written back in 2013 for many years.

When I read what I had written, a few thoughts came to mind.

The first thought was that some of my thinking back then is now a bit dated. Over the past 13 years I’ve shifted my opinions and thinking about this topic.

The second thought was that regardless of any nuance or middle ground the post might attempt, some people will likely get upset with even discussing this topic. I’m a big believer in writing that can spawn civil discussion, and that’s why I’m republishing the updated post here.

The third thought is that I wasn’t in love with the original “Are We Too Inclusive?” title, but I kept it should a past iteration of the article be seen and the association between the two is made clear.

Because I’m a better writer than I was 13 years ago (I hope) and because some of my thinking has indeed shifted regarding the topic, I have revised the original post considerably. In some cases, the revisions were relatively minor and in those instances most of how I thought back in 2013 appears to remain my stance today.

One hope I have is that anyone reposting this anywhere or commenting on it posted online will take the time to read the entire post. I don’t think it’s at all unreasonable or intractable. I think it’s balanced and respects the spectrum of opinions as seen through my eyes. If someone does read it in its entirety and disagrees with some or all of it, so be it. We must always allow for the full range of perspectives if the kink scene is to remain vibrant, growing, and adapting to inevitable change.

This is much longer than most of my posts, but so was the original source post. Breaking it up into smaller chunks didn’t make any sense. I’m presenting it here in its full length.

Back in 2013, a friend of mine asked the following question on his Facebook timeline:

In the leather, kink, fetish, and BDSM community, we say we are ALL inclusive. Are we truly ALL inclusive or are we exclusive? What does being ALL inclusive look like? What effects has/will being ALL inclusive have on our community?

I started to answer his questions in his post’s comments and it became such a long response that I decided to turn it into my own post. My answer, long as it is, really only addresses the last question. But I think that’s the far more interesting question of the three.

I’m going to make some assumptions about what “inclusion” means in this instance, and I’m fully aware I’m making those assumptions. If your view of inclusion is different, what I have to say here may not apply.

I’m someone who was around at what I consider the dawn of the strong push towards greater inclusion of a diversity of genders, orientations, kink proclivities and sexuality expression styles. I was also part of that effort to a large extent.

Like many things in life, the pendulum often swung far in the direction of hyper-inclusion to counter the perceived and much denigrated exclusionary nature of some sectors of our sexual realm. But also, as usually happens after such strong swings in one direction, I believe the pendulum has been slowly swinging back to somewhere in the middle between the former exclusionary extreme and the now receding hyper-inclusion. I also think that’s a good thing.

The initial work of the National Leather Association – International (NLA-I) is what I consider the dawn of the modern era of more inclusion in the kink realm. Some leather and kink historians might disagree, but I perceive that as the tipping point in the leather scene’s maturation.

Everyone I know who was involved with the founding and running of NLA-I did so with the best of intentions. Amazing people. Good work. Important work. I was honored to have been a highly active participant in that organization along with many subsequent efforts that followed that made great strides in bridging the gaps between the various leather, BDSM, kink, and fetish community factions, gaps that were considered flaws by some rather than good qualities of the scene.

To a great extent, those efforts have succeeded – sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. I think much emphasis has been placed on the better and only now are some realizing there are worse aspects of the results as well. After all, nothing is perfect. Especially at its inception.

“For the worse” is a harsh phrasing. Perhaps unintended ramifications is a better and kinder and more honest way to put it. My intention is not to denigrate any of the work people did back then. After all, I was one of the people doing the work. So, if I were to denigrate the work, I’d be denigrating myself too. But I do think it’s wise to continually reassess from a mile high vantage point the work done in community to see what works, what doesn’t, and what can be revised to better service the communities they intend to improve.

The kink scene is by its very nature a sexual one. Yes, many believe it’s much more than that, and it most certainly can be and is in many cases. But at its core, for me it’s a sexuality-based thing. As such, for many in the scene, the usual social rules of inclusion and attempts at fairness simply don’t always apply. Some examples might help to illustrate what I mean by this since upon reading that I already know some will balk.

Me

Before I cite those examples, I should preface what I have to say by stating that I am not your typical gay kinkster. I thrive rather well amid people of all genders, gender expressions, sexual orientations, and in a wide variety of sexual environments. I’m also deeply entrenched in the worlds of advocating and working for sexuality rights, relationship choice rights, effective and useful kink education, alternative sexuality research, and other things that the typical kinky gay man, or kinky person of any stripe, really doesn’t have all that much interest in, at least not to the extent I do. Nor should they necessarily.

So, my own personal kink identity is not the norm. Therefore, I believe how I choose to identify and play as a kinky gay man differs considerably from how others not so entrenched in what I laid out above might choose to identify and play. My observations and comments below are from what I have observed and discussed with countless people over the past many years. They are my perceptions and opinions honed through experience and extensive networking within the spectrum of kink worlds. That means your experience and networks might inform you differently and if that’s the case, please consider this my desire for you to share with the world your perspectives too.

One more thing. Those of us in the kink realm who organize events, attend and work on contests, regularly attend kink education sessions, and run the various groups and organizations are not representative of most kinksters. We tend to forget that. Ask the average mainstream BDSM or kink player how much they care about such things and you’ll likely get a rather lackluster level of enthusiasm. So, I try to remember that my own identity and approaches are influenced in large part by being one of those people (I call them the scene’s “inner sanctum,” although I know it’s an imperfect term).

I will cover four areas that I feel have been impacted by the inclusion movement, although there are likely others: leather bars, play parties, conferences and events, and education.

Leather Bars

There are a whole lot of reasons why leather bars have had challenging times in recent years. But one reason I hear many gay men (because let’s face it, leather bars are mostly a kinky gay men’s phenomenon) say they no longer frequent leather bars is because they are now so inclusive.

Many leathermen do not want non-leather people in their bars. Yet rights legislation combined with social changes within the kink and queer communities have forced virtually all American leather bars to allow entrance to anyone of legal age who wants to come in. When once upon a time a bar could enforce a dress code, it’s now considered illegal or intolerant to do so today. Yes, this might have some upsides, but the downside is that it has cast aside the men who preferred their leather bars to be, well, actual leather bars dripping with leather- and gear-clad men cruising in hardcore fashion among their own gay male kind. Those days are gone, never to return.

Let me inject a dose of reality here. It’s nearly impossible to keep a leather bar open in the United States today without being far more inclusive than in the past, reaching out to a wider range of people than might have populated it in the heydays of leather bars.

The nature of the gay men’s leather bar has also been de-sexed to the lowest common denominator of what’s acceptable to anyone who might enter its door, as well as tighter legal state controls over liquor establishments. Since no kinky bar of any note has succeeded in drawing a primarily heterosexual or lesbian crowd in large enough profitable numbers, pushing all those gay men aside has forced many such bars to close and made existence harder for those still around.

Are there other factors leading to the demise of many leather bars? Absolutely. The fact that men can no longer have sex in the bars is a huge reason why I believe leather bars are disappearing. Put kinky gay men together in a dark bar atmosphere without the restriction of liquor or health code laws or the presence of non-kinky, non-gay male people and the erotic allure of the bar is likely to remain stronger. Of course, the internet is blamed a lot, but I think the blame placed on it is far greater than it’s had in reality. And, of course, there are simply more additional venues in which gay men can express their kinky selves outside of bars.

One more factor that pushes many kinky gay men out of the leather bars is fundraisers and what I’ll refer to as “microphone” events. Most kinky gay men want to go to a leather bar to do one of two things: socialize and cruise. That’s it. That’s why they’re there. Anything that gets in the way of that makes the experience less appealing. And there’s absolutely nothing sexy about someone on stage with a microphone hawking a fundraiser or an entertainment demo that tries to pass itself off as education. And AIDS fundraisers aside, I think the inclusion movement has encouraged the non-sexual, fundraiser-style event quite a bit.

Another reality check. For whatever reason, we are and likely will remain awash in bar fundraisers. Yes, many in the bars find them distracting or downright annoying, but I just don’t see them slowing down anytime soon. The titleholder system on its own proliferates fundraisers like rabbits and that system doesn’t appear to be waning at all.

Do we absolutely need leather bars? No. But many kinky gay men miss them terribly and for those bars still around they miss the highly sexual atmosphere they once embodied. More robust inclusion, along with laws and the more focused societal scrutiny of them due to the more open nature of kink, has taken away a lot of their sexiness and allure.

Play Parties

Once upon a time, play parties were demarcated by the orientations of attendees. Gay men played among gay men. Lesbians played among lesbians. Heterosexuals played among heterosexuals. Bisexuals and queers occasionally played with their own kind, but typically simply made a choice of what atmosphere they wished to play in for that night.

Over the past decades, there has been an increasing trend toward mixed play spaces. At the same time, there was a trend toward more open play parties with relatively little scrutiny about who could walk through the play space doors. For many, this has proven to be enjoyable. But for lots of people, it’s not.

Again, I see our scene as sexual. As such, it’s the core sexual attractions and affinities that propel and underpin what it is we do at play parties. I believe it’s a fact that most gay men would rather play in the presence of only gay men, that most lesbians would rather play in the presence of only lesbians, and that most heterosexuals would rather play in the presence of other heterosexuals. I think that’s totally natural. Some absolutely enjoy mixed places and I think that’s great. But I contend most kinksters do not.

Admittedly, the growth of a more flexible definition of queer and pansexual muddies those waters. As an interesting illustrative data point, in a 2025 Gallup survey, a full 23% of respondents ages 18-29 self-identified somewhere on the LGBTQ spectrum. That’s a startling (and heartening) statistic. But that also means as we move forward and younger people form the heart of kink communities, more mixing is probably likely.

Add to this mix that we’ve moved away from the past tradition of play parties being entirely invitation-only, or at least highly and carefully screened, and a situation has emerged where many play spaces cater to the common denominator of the masses but aren’t necessarily sexually exciting or enticing to most.

Also, the mixing of orientations in particular has led to a de-sexing of play spaces. And in this case, I’m referring to the actual insertive and intimate activities of sex itself. I believe the “no sex” rules of many contemporary play spaces hurt our scene rather than helps it. It fosters for many a division between kink and intimacy and ultimately that can’t be good. For me and others who think like me (and I contend it’s many people), my sex and my kink are inextricably linked and to separate them makes the experience less than satisfying.

Luckily, at least among gay men, which is the world in which I run nowadays most of the time, I’m seeing a resurgence in invitation-only play parties and parties at which sex is not only allowed but encouraged.

Conferences and Gatherings

Here I have mixed feelings because I see the benefits of all types of kinksters coming together at various conferences and gatherings. In many instances these events are comprised of folks of all genders, orientations, and walks of kinky life and I often find that wonderful and useful. However, it’s not always the case and it has some downsides.

One of the downsides is that they tend to lack acknowledgment that gay men, lesbians, heterosexuals, bisexuals, and queers all identify and play somewhat differently. I’ve witnessed this time and again in mixed play settings and had countless conversations with people who cross the gender/orientation boundaries who concur. So, what can happen when you mix everyone together is that the minority views, approaches, and styles can be oppressed.

I think lesbians feel this oppression sometimes at mixed events, but not always in the same ways that gay men do. Because heterosexual sexuality has either tolerated or venerated women-on-women sexuality, lesbians might feel some oppression, but they also feel a level of acceptance greater than gay men do. Yes, this is absolutely changing, but it’s still there. Heterosexuals, typically the vast majority at mixed events, end up dominating the event in decision-making, event activities, education tracks, play party planning, socializing party design, and so on.

So, what happens as a result is that heterosexuals get to be and play as they are while lesbians feel some oppression and gay men feel more. Queers and bisexuals are still, unfortunately, often in a no man’s land in terms of full acceptance. I think the retreat of many gay men from pansexual (mixed) clubs and organizations is a result of this sense by many gay men that much of their scene has been co-opted and they now at the same time have far less clout and influence than they’d like.

Education

BDSM/kink education is essentially the teaching of our sexuality. I have my own views about how BDSM/kink education has at times gone off the rails, but much of those views are encapsulated in Patrick Mulcahey’s brilliant 2012 Leather Reign speech. In that speech, Mulcahey articulates seven lessons he’s learned about kink education, and they align with my own views. His perspectives are from the gay men’s experience, but Mulcahey has deep ties to the entire spectrum of kinksters and his lessons can be adapted to all.

1. The experience of our coming together in numbers is more important than what we came together to learn — and more educational too.

2. I believe we learn by experience and no other way.

3. Decide who your audience is and be faithful to them.

4. Our kind of learning happens most organically in the context of a relationship.

5. The presenter is more important than whatever you say the topic is.

6. A leatherman’s story is his most valuable asset, the most powerful truth he has to tell — or to teach.

7. If we must demo, then let us demonstrate values, not “skills.”

Learning BDSM and kinky sexualities is best done with a hands-on approach. If it’s a technique, that technique is best learned not by watching, but by doing. If it’s an idea or informational topic best handled by discussion or facilitated discovery, such discussion or discovery is often best done when allowed to take place with those people that share the most common experiences and backgrounds. Mixing the various factions together can dampen some of that learning.

Most gay men do not want to explore their erotic selves in the presence of women or heterosexuals. I won’t speak directly for lesbians or heterosexuals but based on the many conversations I’ve had with kinksters in those camps, many of them feel the same way. Perhaps this is why so much of our education has devolved (yes, word chosen intentionally) into a pervasive classroom-based instructional model where an instructor pushes out technique and wisdom to the listening and watching students sitting quietly in their chairs supposedly absorbing what’s being taught.

I think there is tremendous value in the learning experience being shared with those you feel most comfortable learning among. Excessive inclusion can, at times, reduce the learning experience to a common denominator of comfort that’s less than optimal for most.

Economics

A bit about how economics affects our scene.

The skyrocketing cost of real estate in cities like New York and San Francisco means that everything we do is more expensive to do: bar space; play party space; conference and gathering space, and education space. Parties that used to pay a $250 rental for dungeon space, for example, suddenly have to pay $1250 or more for the same rental and this is a very strong incentive to let in anybody who comes to the door with the cash to enter.

Economics might be the most significant force in creating our kink conferences. They are based on the model of business conferences, but businesses operating for profit year-round can afford a little red ink if their conferences don’t break even. Whereas leather and kink conferences often based their solvency on the success of a single annual event they produce. Hotel facilities are expensive to rent. So, conferences must market themselves to appeal to the greatest possible number of kinksters, which typically means heterosexual and pansexual folks. That factor alone accounts for what I consider many of the most persistent and most frustrating aspects of leather/kink conferences. For example, the educational offerings (of which there are usually far too many in my opinion) that accompany every conference are almost never targeted at lesbians or gay men. They are conceived to have the broadest appeal and thus hyper-inclusion becomes the norm as a result.

Solutions?

I don’t feel I can say things like I’ve said above unless I’m willing to put forth my ideas for solutions to the downside of inclusion. And again, I’m not saying inclusion is always bad. It is in fact often quite good. I just think the dramatic pendulum swing toward inclusion has, at times, lessened our collective BDSM and kink experience, not helped it.

Leather Bars: I’m not sure I have a good solution for this one. Laws on the books in most dense urban locales where leather bars exist mean anyone can claim the right to enter any business establishment they want. Perhaps a private club model could be put in place that sidesteps such laws, but we’ve seen those legal veil arrangements pierced far too often to think this would really hold up over time. Highly creative bar owners might be able to make a go of leather bars (which we should probably name change to kink bars to keep up with the times), and I hope that’s the case.

Play Parties: I’d like to see a return to more invitation-only and highly screened play parties. I’d like to see the smaller at-home or small venue parties happen with greater frequency because I think most people inclined to play in groups play better in smaller rather than larger groups. And maybe small play parties with fixed invitation lists in affordable or at-home, private spaces would be more satisfying for everyone involved. I’d like to see some play party organizers, without shame or apology, declare that their play party is exclusively for specific genders, orientations, ages, or kink proclivities, and also not apologize that it’s invitation-only or highly screened. The play will be hotter and more fulfilling for a larger number of attendees and I think such an approach would spark a bigger interest in such parties. There is still a place for the large, mixed, and open play parties. I don’t see them going away. But perhaps we can foster more options for those who don’t find them appealing.

Conferences and Gatherings: I’d like to see some organizers of conferences and gatherings declare their events specifically targeted to certain genders, orientations, ages, or kink proclivities. There is still a place for the mixed events, but since the various factions share different experiences and have some different needs and wants, perhaps these non-inclusive events would benefit them in ways the mixed ones do not always. And for those bigger mixed conference style events, I’d like to see more deference to the various factions with targeted socializing, learning, networking, and play opportunities created rather than a single set of offerings that are meant to appeal to everyone.

Education: Apart from my other concerns about how we do education today in the BDSM/kink world, I’d like to see many more learning opportunities created that specifically address the various sub-populations of the BDSM/kink world. Sure, many can still and perhaps should be mixed, but there is also value in learning among your own kind because of the shared values and experiences that group might embrace. Maybe education tracks can target the needs of specific groups without apology and without needing to be “big.”

Conclusion

Some will interpret what I wrote above as advocating for the separation of the factions in the leather/kink world. Nothing could be further from the truth. I think there is tremendous benefit to having the various factions mingle, meet, gather, share, and otherwise interact. I just think not all situations require or even benefit from the inclusion of everyone.

I make my case for fostering and maintaining affinity spaces in “The Need for Erotic Affinity Spaces.”

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