Bruises, Scars and Marks.

I've been avoiding going out for a couple of weeks. When I do go out, I've been wearing long-sleeved shirts even though it's quite warm. It's because of the marks on my arms. The marks were made with a blade and a cane, during the course of a perfectly consensual if somewhat intense sexual interaction between me and a person who loves me very much. I have no negative feelings about the marks and the inevitable scarring, but I can't go out.

I don't want people to see them.

This came as a surprise to me because I'm generally quite comfortable being seen with bruises, marks and scars, I try my best to explain them if asked, depending on who is asking, in what context and why, or I just treat them like a non-issue, often I forget they are even there. A decade or so ago, when I was asked the question about visible marks, I had a standard answer, one that I have undoubtedly written about before as well — *It's my body, I reserve the right to do with it as I please, I cannot make so many adjustments to how I live for the sake of how I must look and I have no shame about explaining how the marks are a result of consensual sexual activity (if the situation warrants and allows for that discussion.)* I still feel this way on some level, but I have a lot more to add to the discussion now.

The evolution of my feelings about marks started with doctors. The few times they did see bruises on me, I tried to have honest discussions about the bruises which weren't believed or well-received, and at least on one occasion, I was harassed so much by the doctor in question, I left without getting a diagnosis or a prescription for what I had come for. However, the response to the bruising has nothing on the response to the scarring or obvious blade/knife/scalpel markings. They make no qualms about the fact that they think you're fucking nuts. I'd love to say that with more sensitivity, but I feel obligated to convey the sentiment with which they treat you. I deeply appreciate any work that is being done to liaise with medical professionals to the end of more kink-awareness since in the long-term it is the only concrete way to ensure better medical care for people in the community, but we aren't close to achieving a workable model on that. While there are some kink-aware and positive therapists, physicians and professionals in bigger cities, they are non-existent in small towns, smaller cities, government healthcare or most hospitals. That's no one's fault, it just is what it is.

And as a result, I realised, that I wasn't getting the healthcare I needed because my physical examinations were following a pattern. They would look, I would explain, they would ask if I have a history of sexual abuse, I would say yes, case closed. There was a doctor who actually told me my dengue was anxiety (which is the kind of medical bias that isn't actually limited to kinksters, it's also prevalent in women's healthcare). It happened so much, i became terrified of going to the doctor. I still am. I had to see a new gynaecologist a month ago and I was anxious for a week. For months, I didn't make the appointment because I was so afraid of the inevitable accusations that would follow. I also have vaginismus so when they do transvaginal ultrasounds on me, they find out and they correlate that immediately with rape, self-harm and essentially suggest I get on antidepressants or anti-anxiety meds. Essentially, most medical conditions I have had have been explained back to me as psychosomatic manifestations or "lifestyle" consequences.

You may be the strongest, wisest and most clear-headed person in the world, but I would say that eventually, this reinforcement will sneak in and you will have a moment when you will start to question yourself and whether you really even need healthcare. Obviously, you could have a better experience, especially if you are able to find healthcare professionals who are also kinky. Honestly, I am blessed to have my husband because there is a lot I can run past him before I have to go to a relevant specialist, that's not ideal, but it helps because I have genuine doctor-trauma. I used to walk into emergency rooms with confidence and demand treatment for a rib accidentally cracked during sex (and it really was a total freak accident), even if the bruises on my breasts were still fresh and visible because I believed, I really believed, that letting myself suffer and be harmed because I may be ashamed of having to explain my choices was the wrong decision. Though I still wouldn't ever not go to the ER if I needed to because that is a vital principle to me, we are not doing anything if you wouldn't rush me to a hospital without a second thought if it was warranted, no matter how much trouble we or you could get into, this is how much I need to trust a person to allow them to approach a space where they can accidentally crack my rib, but I do avoid going to other doctors as much as I can because...I'm fucking tired.

That's the real issue. That's where my view on this genuinely evolved. Twelve years ago, my opinion was based on the visibility of transient marks like bruises, scabs and welts. While I did have significant scarring, it was mostly on my thighs and I had little reason to see many doctors back then because I was twenty so my experience of the medical bias was limited, though not absent. I was also young and busy, so the bruises on my body were incidents and not an entire lifestyle. Maybe once every couple of months I would have bruising or fresh marks that were visible despite clothing and that's easy enough to explain. My social environment was also very well-curated. I mostly saw, lived with and hung out with people I could tell about my sexuality and have it be a non-issue. I worked as an escort so I didn't have to go to an office. Now, my experience has changed.

Among my friends, I can still be who I am and they know me well enough to know a black-eye is just the great sex I had the previous night but my friends don't actually comprise my day-to-day social environment anymore. It is composed of neighbours, colleagues, family, strangers I meet for work/social reasons and the community around where I live. This is not a curated social environment, I cannot insulate myself from the forces I don't want to deal with because these are the conditions of my work/life situation (and that's true for everyone in the world to varying degrees). I would happily explain to my neighbour why my bruises are beautiful but she's going to stop letting her kid talk to mine. That's the world. While I am still reluctant to cover my marks with make-up, I do make up lies to explain them. I hate it but here's the thing you learn over years and years of having the "this is a result of consensual kink" conversation with people. Most people just hear that you are a pervert and then they tell everyone. I am not "hidden" with regard to who I am, I even write about kink under my real name, but a reader is not the same as a neighbour.  There is a level of intimacy I don't want with my neighbour and knowledge of my sexuality is often part of that (unless we become friends, which is different).

See, the problem is that communication, in practise, does not always reflect the intentions of people. I can talk to people, very positively, about the marks and bruises, truly let them understand my sexuality and how it is something many people experience, but they will receive that explanation within the context of their social experiences and personal morality. Conservative (and this is the educated version, by the way so don't come in here with that elitist crap) Indian society clutches its pearls when I openly state that the child I am raising is my stepchild, it is not about to laud me for owning my sexuality. It's not about to see the empowerment in sadomasochism. People *hate* you for these things because by attacking you, they believe, they are morally protecting their culture and the values of their environment. They *hate*. They plot, conspire, threaten, out and dox you. Little by little, with every conversation you have with people who are not *in the know*, you start to see the consequences of your openness and consequences aren't the same for everyone. They vary by circumstance, gender, social environment and privilege.

That's why "wear my marks with pride" now seems to me an overly simplistic position. It was possible for me when it was possible not to think as a parent, an employee, a caregiver, an adult when I first had that opinion but I was also...less beaten-down. The thing is, I am going to have scars on my body for the rest of my life, if I could leave it at the sentimental, sexual and aesthetic pleasure of that, I wouldn't need to deal with it as much, but it's ongoing. It does, can and will continue to come up with the people you meet, strangers who see you, professionals who work for you, people who hire you, the people you hire, family you add through the years, every single person who points at them and asks. It will continue to come up and become relevant again and again and again. It's the same if you have bruises and fresh marks that don't scar with *regularity*. It's going to be something for which the thrill will fade (for most people anyway) and you may realise that actively dealing with it constantly and in perpetuity is tiresome. These are my main issues with marks and scars now.

I am worried that they will impact my access to healthcare for the rest of my life and I'm mad about it. I'm sick of explaining my body, being honest and still being targetted for it. I am tired of doing it over and over again. That doesn't mean I am sick of getting marked or bruised, I am still hella into it, I'm just saying that a decade ago I didn't fully grasp that the marks would carry this much baggage and it's not internal baggage. I don't feel less or more beautiful, I care about healing well and pay attention to that but personally, aside from that, marks are incidental or consequential, they may as well be invisible to me, but they aren't to the world.

And some days that is burdensome, so I put on a long-sleeved shirt or hide in my house. Some days it's fine, I feel up to having a conversation about it. Some days I will cover them because I expect to be around children with whom I cannot and should not have the conversation. I will always exercise my right to do what I want to my body, but that right is not always comfortably experienced and sometimes, I do just want to hide. It's not shame, I'm tired.