Sex and Other Seemingly Violent Pursuits: Is Violence Always Violent-Looking and Vice Versa?

Examining the difference between ‘violent’ and ‘violence’ in the contexts of sex, BDSM and emotional abuse

Must violence look violent? Is what looks violent always violence?

“Bondage is also violence!” yelled an angry onlooker to my friends who were tying for an outside Shibari photo shoot. “Take your sexist bondage shit somewhere else,” she continued while swinging her fist and threatening to call the police.

Comments like these both trigger and pique my interest, and while I surely could write a book in response to the displeased passerby, I’ll try to fit my main points in an essay, starting with her claim:

Is bondage violence?

There’s no straightforward yes or no answer to this question, rather it’s context-dependent. What we need to be asking is whether or not the person placed in bondage wants to be tied up or not. Therefore, I propose that the main distinction between violence and non-violence relies on consent and intent, rather than the nature of the act itself.

Before elaborating further, it feels appropriate to (re)introduce myself:

I’m a woman who, after living for over a decade in a psychologically and verbally abusive relationship, found my way into the world of BDSM and Shibari (Japanese rope bondage). In the first scenario, I was not harmed physically, apart from a couple of odd times, and although my ex-partner didn’t hit me, I would nevertheless label what I lived through as violence.

In the latter, I’ve engaged in numerous erotic acts, which upon first glance and to those unfamiliar with the world of kink and BDSM, could appear violent. These experiences have provided me with massive strength and have helped me heal and mend from years of abuse. Therefore, and due to my always-willing and enthusiastic participation, they can’t be labeled acts of violence, despite their oftentimes violent display.

Trading my verbally abusive marriage for BDSM (aka bondage, discipline, dominance, submission, sadism, and masochism) remains one of the most (outwardly) paradoxical aspects of my life, and thus, I’ve spent countless hours pondering the meaning of violence vs. that which may look violent but isn’t.

Emerging from my perspective, with the hypothesis that violence is context and consent-dependent, I’d like to discuss the following:

• First, what is violence and how do we define it?
• Is that which appear violent always violence? Can something be an act of violence without looking violent? And, how do we differentiate between them?
• Is there something inherently violent about sex? What’s the distinction between violent sex and sexual violence.

What is violence?

The standard Merriam-Webster dictionary defines violence as “the use of physical force so as to injure, abuse, damage, or destroy”. This interpretation encompasses the clear-cut, obvious types of violence; those which first spring to mind upon hearing the word, such as physical abuse and batter, acts of war and terror, and all of that which leads to injury, and in the worst case, death.

This far too narrow definition limits violence to physical acts, thus failing to acknowledge any form of psychological violence.

The World Health Organization has a broader definition of the term, describing it as “the intentional use of physical force or power, threatened or actual, against oneself, another person, or against a group or community, which either results in or has a high likelihood of resulting in injury, death, psychological harm, maldevelopment, or deprivation.”

The WHO does a greater job of including various forms of violence. By mentioning force or power it emphasizes that power can also be of mental or psychological nature. By including threatened or actual it acknowledges that insinuating the use of force, even without acting on it, is also violence.

Still, neither definition directly considers that the same exact act can or can’t be violence depending on intent and consent.

If something looks violent is it always violence?

Let’s imagine you tie your lover to the bedpost and whack them purple and blue with a wooden spatula. Is it violence? The best way to know is to ask why.

Were you angry with your partner and did it to punish and harm them? Did you do it without having discussed your interest in such activities, and without securing your partner’s consent? Yes, then it is violence!

Do you and your partner regularly engage in such activities and/or has your partner expressed a desire to be tied up and spanked? Further, did they enthusiastically consent in the moment? No, then it’s not violence but rather an erotic or even a loving act.

While an air of taboo surrounds bondage and other BDSM-related pursuits, there are other areas in which we, as a society, accept violent-looking activities and even consume them for entertainment purposes. Wrestling, boxing, fencing, and other forms of martial arts are undoubtedly violent, yet we call them sports; they’re not violence due to the assumption that participants have consented to enter the ring.

In the unthinkable scenario that a kickboxer was to leave the ring to start doing to the audience what they were just doing to their contender, however, it becomes violence.

It’s clear that something which may appear violent is not by default an act of violence.

Can something be violent without looking violent?

Psychological violence tends to be elusive and thus harder to pin down. This makes it uncomfortable to speak about, especially since it confronts us with the unpleasant fact that these perpetrators often walk unnoticed amongst us, exercising their highly deliberate and malevolent acts right under our noses.

Often masked as compliments and spoken in soft words, verbal abuse confuses not only potential onlookers but the victims themselves. Many don’t realize that they’ve been living with this type of violence until years into it, and often not until after leaving their abusers.

“But did he hit you?” is a question I was asked often after sharing my own experiences. While I would never want to be physically assaulted, my answer was often that I wish he had [hit me]. I imagine a clear strike could have woken me up to see what was happening, rather than staying trapped in a web of confusion that nearly caused me to lose my sense of self.

Manipulation and emotional violence can take many shapes. Even something as innocent-sounding as a love letter or a flirtatious text message can become violent in nature when such a gesture is unwelcome. Repeat attempts sent to someone who’s expressed that they don’t reciprocate the sender’s feelings, and have requested not to receive such advances, is harassment—no matter how sweet the words.

Let’s go further and imagine a simple phrase like “you’re mine and I never want to let you go!” In one possible scenario—when uttered in a passionate moment between two lovers, fully aware that this is a figure of speech; that neither of them own the other and both are free to leave—it’s can be experienced as hot, and completely innocent.

In a different setting, whispered quietly by a controlling spouse as one of many deliberate threats designed to instill fear and terror, the same words take on a deeply ominous characteristic.

On the flipside, there are those who enjoy consensual verbal humiliation in sexual contexts. Akin to how some get turned on by acts that may be violent-looking, such as spanking or bondage, others have an affinity for violent-sounding words and phrases. A so-called degradee could get turned on when their lover calls them “a filthy, worthless piece of meat” during sex. The same phrase said to them in a different context, or by another person, would have the opposite effect.

Aside from the clear-cut, obvious types of violence as defined by the dictionary, words alone, much like actions, are not inherently violent but context and consent-dependent. Therefore, something can be an act of violence without looking violent, and vice versa.

The inherent violence of sex

What better way to discuss the distinction between violent and violence than through sex itself? The main reason for this being that it’s one of the few areas (apart from martial arts and certain sports) where it’s generally accepted for it to look violent without being labeled as violence.

Read any erotic novel or short story and you’ll find it strewn with words describing sexual scenes as fervent, animalistic, feral, raw— and also violent. And, who hasn’t heard some version of the story of mom and dad getting caught in the act by their kid to have it reinterpreted or disguised as naked wrestling?

Rough sex happens to be one of the most popular and common sexual fantasies. An article from Psychology Today, which appropriately asks the question of whether “Rough Sex” [is] Really Just Normal Sex?” cites a survey in which 4 in 5 participants had engaged in rough sex, and almost all reported some enjoyment of it. A quick online search reveals varying percentages but confirms that the majority of both men and women either likes or fantasizes about rough or forceful sex.

Sex doesn’t even have to be especially kinky to be considered rough. Add a certain level of intensity and passion, and the most vanilla of sex acts; straight, PIV (penis in vagina) can appear violent depending on the beholder. Were we to dive deeper into radical feminist theory, which I won’t here, there are those who’ll claim that intercourse is inherently violent, a theory I don’t entirely dismiss, especially from a purely visual and symbolic point of view.

Despite its oftentimes violent appearance, sex is routinely referred to as the ultimate expression of romantic love. While the two can be separated and often are, it’s generally assumed that sex plays a part in a romantic relationship as one of the main ingredients distinguishing it from a platonic one. Therefore, no matter how outdated the term to consummate a marriage is, sex is culturally seen as what seals the deal. Not just a hyperbole, there are still legal systems in which a marriage would be annulled should it remain un-consummated.

We can conclude from this that sex with consent, no matter how raw, wild, or violent-looking, is not violence. Without consent, on the other hand, any sex— also attempted or threatened—regardless of whether apparent struggle is present, is always violence.

Returning to the angry onlooker in the park, while I can understand that the display of bondage could be triggering to some, it’s important to bear in mind that we can’t judge a scene solely based on appearances.

Further, different things will trigger different people; some will be disturbed by a public broadcast of a boxing match while others might panic at the sound of a couple quarreling loudly on the street. It’s nevertheless important to be mindful and considerate of our surroundings whenever we decide to bring sensitive activities, such as Shibari bondage, out into the public by choosing locations where audiences are never ‘trapped’ or ‘forced to look’. Our aim should be at dismantling stigmas rather than amplifying them.

Drawing superficial conclusions however, such as by insisting a consensual bondage performance done in the name of art is violence, can cause us to point fingers in false directions while allowing real perpetrators to fly under the radar.

The American proverb says that “the squeaky wheel gets the grease”, and this is true also here. We’re naturally drawn to what makes the most noise, even when we’re aware that important things don’t always scream the loudest.

In the case of my own abusive marriage, I’m aware it looked fairly harmonious from an outsider’s perspective as the majority of the violence took place behind closed doors. My more recent interactions, on the other hand, may look outwardly intense and fierce, yet are built on mutual trust and respect.

When we insist on focusing on the image of actions rather than context—the intent behind and whether participation is consensual—we continue to vilify the benevolent while near-invisible violence like manipulation, coercion, and harassment carries on unnoticed. This can have detrimental consequences such as promoting victim-blaming in cases of sexual assault by demanding forceful struggle in order to justify assault. It requires that punches are thrown and eyes blackened in order to pinpoint abuse.

I write this as an appeal, not only to the woman in the park, but the many others who share her views and are too quick to draw conclusions: It’s time to look farther than skin-deep when it comes to how we view violence. “Only cowards hide behind silence,” said Paulo Coelho, and in that same silence hides unimaginable cruelty, which unlike the public display of innocent kink does not stand the light of day. It’s time to draw the curtains.