“With ideas it is like with dizzy heights you climb: At first they cause you discomfort and you are anxious to get down, distrustful of your own powers; but soon the remoteness of the turmoil of life and the inspiring influence of the altitude calm your blood; your step gets firm and sure and you begin to look – for dizzier heights.”
This is a kink of discomfort.
It is completely compatible with a kink that is joyous—in look, in feel, in spirit—but that’s because discomfort isn’t in opposition to joy. You can have interactions where everyone is visibly having a lovely time, and it still isn’t necessarily comfortable. To give a simple example, perhaps it SHOULD disturb us, on a basic level, to watch one person beating the shit out of another, even if both of them are smiling. Maybe especially then.
The reason we can see these things and enjoy them in a kink setting is because we recognize context, and we recognize a meaning outside of exterior cultural norms.
Our kink is potentially disquieting. It unsettles us, as observers and as participants.
Our kink is potentially frightening. And not just when we play with fear, but when we engage in anything that challenges us.
Our kink is potentially monstrous. We are not monsters; but we may, and do, partake in things which are otherwise only the territory of the bestial.
The outside world has long said that we’re wicked, or sick, or wrong. Modern kink has maintained that we are not those things. But honestly, all of those words are deeply subjective. We are, in fact, wicked, in that we don’t always follow the ordinary world’s ideas of how to have ordinary human interactions. (Sometimes, we specifically seek out those rules so that we can break them in our kink.) We are, perhaps, not “healthy”, as defined by most dictionaries—since their definitions tend to derive from being just like other people, and most people don’t do what we do. And you can’t get more “wrong”, broadly speaking, than actively trying to break barriers of ordinary speech, thought, and action. Those barriers exist to keep human society manageable and contained. Fucking with them is no small thing.
Some of us prefer to explain to the outside world that what we do may look or seem like it’s broken, but it isn’t—we might have the symptoms which ordinarily indicate broken or inappropriate human interactions (bruises and marks, to name one obvious example)—but in this case, those symptoms don’t point to a problem, they point to actions taken outside of usual rules.
Some of us like to flaunt that we’re different—different and proud of it.
For myself, I have always seen the creation of new kink ideas as an art, and the implementation of kink as a fight against the tendency of the world to be simple, ordinary, and limited. And no-one who makes art, no-one who pushes the envelope of human possibility, is “just like everyone else”.