The Body Always Remembers: Rediscovering Rope After a Decade
Why embracing our desires is an act of liberation, and what I was reminded about pleasure, power, and radical self-acceptance in my first rope class after a decade away.
Warning: The following might not be safe for work. This is part of my revived Queerie Bradshaw blog, where I share my adventures and advice on love and lust. Because being super gay and super freaky is a radical act in the face of fascism and oppression. You can update your Substack preferences if you prefer not to receive Queerie Bradshaw posts but want to keep getting my other writing updates.
On June 7, 2015, a friend tied a beautifully knotted pink rope around my neck, and suddenly, magically, a new kink was unlocked .. and then shut back away.
For a decade, I tucked that part of myself away. Not fully – I learned a couple knots from a friend, I watched some videos of self-tying online, I even bought (the completely wrong kind of) rope at a hardware store once – but enough that my mind forgot the joy of having rope run across my neck.
Still, my body remembered.
The body always remembers.
There is a deep, intimate, primal part of us that always knows exactly what we want and need. If we can be brave enough to ask for it and patient enough to find it, we can build a life full of pleasure, joy, and desire.
That’s what I’m trying to tap back into this summer.
And rope is a key component of that.
There is a deep, intimate, primal part of us that always knows exactly what we want and need.
My rope resurrection started with a magazine article.
In January 2024, my internet friend Jackie Bryant posted on her Instagram that she’d done a healing post-pregnancy Shibari session and wrote all about it for San Diego Magazine. The pics were stunning and Jackie’s words were even more beautiful.
I realize I am really going to have to let all of this go—the ugly scar, the birth horror, yes, but particularly the disgust over my own body, this vessel that not only keeps me alive but created another life, too. I had taken that miracle for granted and gotten in my own head. This experience is objectively beautiful, and I am its centerpiece.
It’s the letting go that I’ve missed the most as I’ve been away from the BDSM world. Not just releasing power to someone else, but releasing societal shame, standards, and expectations in the process.
To be kinky is to radically embrace your body as desirable and worthy of pleasure, sensation, and attention.
BDSM asks us to explore the wildest, most risqué recesses of our imagination and to examine ourselves in the process.
The Leather community is a core part of the sexual revolution that led to current LGBTQ rights, women’s rights, and alternative family structures. Our art and culture is so intrinsically tied to the gay community, it is sometimes hard to separate kink and queerness – although they are two inherently different things, they often go hand in hand.
When we allow one part of ourselves to exist without shame or guilt, we enable other parts of our liberation to follow.
To be kinky is to radically embrace your body as desirable and worthy of pleasure, sensation, and attention.
Nothing Jackie Bryant reported on in her piece was new to me, except for one glaring fact that kept popping up in my mind over and over again: San Diego now has a dedicated rope space – and it’s only seven minutes from my place.
Like so many of my personal desires, I ignored it, focusing instead on trying to get my business (SchoolForWriters.com) and my debut novel (Because Fat Girl) off the ground.
But the minute I declared it to be Sexy Summer, that voice came back in full force, shouting from the rooftop recesses of my mind: San Diego now has a dedicated rope space – and it’s only seven minutes from my place.
And on Monday, June 16, a decade and a week after that first moment when I realized I loved the feel of rope on my skin, I attended a class on knots and friction at The Rope Collective and I did my first ever self-tie harness.
I was awkward, felt completely behind (didn’t know I signed up for part three of a four part series, oops!), and went alone to a class that probably would have been better with a partner. And yet, I still loved it.
The feel of rope on my skin.
The learning of a skillset that was both familiar and yet completely new.
The look of my tits in that harness!
More than anything else, I loved the possibilities that rope presented. From tying up a partner during a kinky scene to learning to let go of perfectionism, I know in my heart – and have known for a decade – that rope has something vital to teach me.
And I’m excited to share what I learn here with you.
Some lessons I learned in my first official rope class:
I dislike natural fiber rope. It itches my skin in an almost allergic way.
I love the feel of nylon rope against my skin.
Decorative rope alights the same femme joy in me as lingerie does.
I can experience the pleasure of rope without needing a partner or years of experience. (This one was mind-opening to me.)
Rope feels scary and overwhelming – but I’m diving deeper into it anyways.
I think it’s that last part that’s my biggest takeaway from the whole experience. I want to do rope not because it feels easy and fun, but because it feels difficult and new – and my Capricorn-rising soul loves a good challenge.
I’m excited to bring you along on the journey as I take on the task of learning rope. Subscribe to make sure you don’t miss a step.
Rope Resources
Rope is inherently risky and could cause a loss of life or limb if not done properly. If you’re interested in rope play, be sure to always have safety scissors around and learn some basics before you begin.
If you’re in San Diego or visiting, check out The Rope Collective. And read Jackie Bryant’s piece on her experience there in SD Magazine.
Not all rope is good for rope play! Twisted Monk can help you find the right rope for you, and offers educational resources on its website.
Jessamyn Stanley has some cool self-ties she does around yoga and body-liberation. Worth following her on Substack and other social media channels for inspiration.
One of my early experiences with rope was watching Midori tie someone up Shibari style. She has multiple books and teaches classes online as well.
Got a great rope resource or influencer you like? Drop the name below.
Keep the convo going.
Let me know in the comments: What is your experience with rope? Are you interested in it? Love it? Hate it? I want to know!
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