Feminisation in Femdomme: A different approach to gender play...

opening a box you know you weren’t meant to touch and discovering something unexpectedly delightful inside.

I’ve never questioned my own gender identity, so my personal relationship with gender feels simple. Yet I’m often told my views appear “complex.” I don’t feel they are, I just don’t subscribe to the rigid definitions that dominate mainstream discourse. Concepts are concepts. They shift. They breathe. They are not brick and mortar.

Working within the sex industry and the BDSM community has undoubtedly shaped this perspective. These spaces are extraordinarily diverse, and the people I’ve shared time with have challenged my assumptions in ways that have been deeply formative. They’ve pressed against my biases and reshaped them, an uncomfortable but essential exercise if one wants to cultivate true flexibility of thought, especially in my line of work.

Gender identity is one conversation. Lately, much of the cultural discussion focuses on transgender people. Before going further, I want to be explicit in my support for anyone whose identity doesn’t align with societal expectations. I’m honoured to know many such people, and it cuts deeply to see them othered as they are. But this piece isn’t about gender identity. We are talking about gender play.

And gender play is not gender identity, though the two can and often do intersect. When I think about gender play, the feeling is almost mischievous: like opening a box you know you weren’t meant to touch and discovering something unexpectedly delightful inside. We all know the thrill of forbidden things. (If you doubt me, try stealing a single chip from someone else’s plate. It will be the best one you eat all night.)

Playing with gender can be a wonderfully healing experience...

Perhaps this sounds a touch whimsical, but I view gender as a collection of energies. Not fixed. Not binary. Not inherently attached to one identity or another. I believe everyone holds the full spectrum within them, it’s simply a matter of which energies they choose, or feel permitted, to embody.

What saddens me is how often femininity is deployed as humiliation within gender play. I’m not opposed to humiliation (I’m rather fond of it) but I dislike the idea that engaging in the feminine should be considered degrading. If someone is wearing my lipstick, they’ve earned the right to do so. That is an honour, not a joke.

We live in a world supported by patriarchal architecture, one that routinely devalues femininity. We see this in the way teenage girls’ interests are mocked, despite the enormous economic influence they wield. We see it in professions dominated by women-nursing, midwifery, hairdressing, being dismissed now, when they were respected in eras where men filled those roles.

This diminishing of the feminine becomes systemic. Tell someone they are weak often enough and they will start to believe it. They never learn the power they possess because it’s been hidden from them before they could explore it.

I don't find men who engage in femininity less masculine, I find them more balanced.

So I find it contradictory when femdom culture reproduces patriarchal framings—treating femininity as the punchline rather than the power source. It harms men by reinforcing the shame attached to softness, receptivity, fluidity. And it harms the feminine by suggesting that its energy is inherently lesser. It is not.

When clients come to me wanting to explore gender play, I approach it through a therapeutic lens. Many men exist in rigid, enforced masculine states—whether imposed by society or cultivated internally. Stepping into the opposite energy can feel profoundly healing. We all contain these energies; being denied access to them is limiting. Sometimes painfully so.

In these sessions, I become the railing they hold onto. I offer stability while they explore the parts of themselves that haven’t been given air before. I give them permission to embody what may have felt unreachable alone.

And let me be clear: I do not view men who engage in this exploration as less masculine. If anything, I see them connecting with a more authentic masculinity than the societal version they’ve been forced into. But that is another essay entirely. I’m endlessly proud of my clients who step into these experiences. It takes courage to pursue joy simply because it calls to you.

I feel humiliation can be incorporated in gender play without being derogatory to feminine energy.

Gender play can also help people clarify their gender identities. I’ve walked with many who discovered profound truths about themselves through this exploration, including realisations that they are transgender. Being present for those awakenings is a privilege.

Some may bristle at my criticisms, especially those who enjoy feminisation as humiliation. I’m not here to be the fizzy water at the party; your desires are valid. It’s simply not a dynamic I engage in directly because it conflicts with my ethical framework. I prefer to create scenarios that explore genuine vulnerability, immobilisation, powerlessness, loss of autonomy, rather than mocking femininity itself.

Ultimately, BDSM is a subjective landscape. My views reflect my experiences, not universal truth. I don’t wish to be a spokesperson for the scene; I’m simply adding my voice to the chorus. Take what resonates and let your own encounters shape the rest.

And if you ever wish to share the dirtier stories that shaped your own perspective… I’m always listening. Until next time darling...