Embracing the title -

Many years ago I sat next to Tony Deblase in an airport lounge after a Living in Leather Conference in Chicago, my sir by my side. Tony and my sir spoke for a while quietly in hushed tones. Suddenly, Tony turned to me and asked, "Have you ever thought of running for a Drummer title?"

"No, Sir," I replied. "I am not a titleholder type," I added in clarification.

His retort was simple and direct, "Think about it."

In the ensuing years, I thought about it. I thought about it while I was on the road touring with musical theatre. I thought about it while I was going from city to city teaching movement at colleges and dance studios. And I thought about it as I prepared to return to school for the third time near the end of the nineties.

Finally, I stopped thinking about it entirely. Over the years, people stopped asking me to run for a title. No one even suggested it. I had convinced everyone that I was a non-title type. Indeed, I was far too busy professionally to dedicate the time needed for such a task.

Two years ago, to the shock of my partner and to myself, I began thinking about running for Northwest LeatherSir. I saw things in the community that concerned me. I saw men donning leather and immediately claiming to be sirs. I saw boys putting themselves at risk. I witnessed political intrigues and gossip draining energy from the community that I loved. I decided that I could make the most difference if I stepped up and ran for a title.

During the last eleven months I believe that I have made a difference. My influence has been felt, not so much because of the things I say, but rather, because of the things I do from day to day. In short, the title has not been as much a spotlight as a follow spot. What I do matters whether shopping in casual clothes, in a suit at work, or in full Gear. People watch. They observe the protocols my boys keep 24/7 when they are with me. They know that I will go to great lengths for my boys, that I believe in them.

Today I travel to San Francisco to compete in International LeatherSIR. The road to this point has been interesting, not always the most direct one to the observer but quite direct from my vantage point.

In spite of the weeks of preparation, my head feels quite empty. But my heart is very much alive, the part of a sir that is foundational to all that we do in Leather.

Happy ILSb and Dore Alley Weekend!

Fuck Titles!

A title does not make a leader. A leader makes a title.

I believe this is the problem that we face in the Leather Tribe relative to titles. That is, some believe that leadership comes from the sash.

Stage time does not make a leader. A loud voice does not make a leader. Outrageous behavior does not make a leader. Nor does a full wardrobe of purchased leather.

A Leader understands the opportunity that the title affords and uses it for the Tribe. A sashed Leader also understands that the most effective tool of leadership is the example he/she sets day to day. And that opportunities for true service only come through humility.

A few days ago I faced a firing squad of judges in preparation for ILSb. Not a pleasant experience. I stood steadfast and listened to feedback and thought, "Very important that I change the way I deliver my answers. I want to win."

At the end of the group interrogation a fellow sir approached me, someone who I hold in high regard. We are friends, with a mutual respect that most sirs possess, but not extremely close.

He expressed his concern about his boy and asked for my help. He went on to express his respect for me as a sir. I was touched deeply by his expression of respect.

Immediately after I was forced to contemplate what makes a leader. Was it the sash that persuaded this sir to ask for my help? No. Rather, it was the rapport that I enjoy with my own boys, the way that I live as a Sir.

I love parades. And I enjoy being on stage. By profession, I am a performer. But these things do not make me a Leader. Rather, it is my compassionate heart as a Sir; the fact that I care deeply about my boys. They are my family. And my community knows that I defend them like a Lion when they are in physical or emotional danger.

Titles are only relevant if titleholders understand that leadership originates from the heart, not from the sash. True leadership emanates from ones way of life.

Living in Leather!

Unmasking the Dottore

I keep a framed print of Il Dottore always sitting close at hand. Sometimes I wear a small, golden Dottore mask around my neck, made for me years ago by a craftsman in Venezia. During this period of my life I recognize the emergence of the Dottore from time to time, that classic Commedia dell'Arte character who personifies the absurdity of the mature, educated man. The fact that I have lived for an extended period in Bologna and obtained part of my education at that city's university further validates this recognition.

As a LeatherSir with decades of experience, I often find this mask placed firmly on my face when I allow myself to act without fully comprehending my boy's situation. Bushy eyebrows leading down to a red, bulbous nose, my judgment can be marred by the inebriety that comes from the belief that I always know best. When this happens, my words become as ineffective as the scatalogical prescriptions of the Old Fool. I must proceed cautiously.

In short, humility is the key to judicious behavior. And often using logic based on experience is not enough to understand what is best for a boy. This is true not only in play but in life.

Without an open mind and heart, extensive experience alone can often mask the Sir.

The Title Scene

I felt proud to stand on the 12th Street Stage with other titleholders at the Folsom Street Fair. "Here they are! Your leaders."

Leadership is an interesting word, a term that often provokes snide comments by many who question the role of those men and women who hold titles. Are titleholders truly leaders?

In the years that I have been involved, I recall a number of titleholders who have amazed me, Leather ambassadors who have worked to raise money and awareness for outstanding causes. And I have known others who have lacked the fortitude to complete their title years. Their motivation seems to have been nothing more than to win the notorious glory of a sash and a free trip to Chicago or San Francisco.

I opine that winning a title is much like stepping into the playroom as a Sir. The toys have been prepared. The limits of the scene, negotiated. The potential players, ready. But, as those of us who play understand, toys and preparation do not guarantee a hot scene.

A good scene, like a good title year, depends on playing without compromise. It requires an investment of the person unlike any other activity. A widening of the senses so that one can play in the moment. It also requires an infectious confidence in one's role as Sir, a strength that serves as a foundation for all activity in the playspace.

Throughout the years I have met men who have made substantial financial investments without any idea what to do with their newly purchased equipment. They believe that their acquired possessions qualify them to be instant Sirs. Often they will list their toys on personals sites in an attempt to convince others of their self-claimed status. But unless someone knows how to play, the toys have little value. I have done scenes in hotel rooms with improvized items purchased in convenience stores. Common for those of us who travel often. These scenes can often be the most fulfilling as they depend on ingenuity rather than equipment.

The night before Folsom I was the guest at the new home of an elder Leatherman. The handsome gentleman related tales from New York in the early seventies, of legendary bars and cruising areas. And he spoke of how he entered the scene with nothing other than an inexplicable desire. No expensive toys. No fancy chaps. Just a man with a hard cock and the balls to be part of the brotherhood of Leather.

A title year is a scene. And in keeping with my role as a Sir, I plan on playing hard. Happy Folsom 2010!