Like many people, finding my place in the world as a sexual being wasn’t quick or effortless.

I spent years bumbling through romantic relationships, at a complete loss for what I wanted and needed. In the past, my romantic partners would sometimes ask what my desires were, encouraging me to speak my mind, but I just didn’t have any answers.

“Whatever works for you, babe,” was all I could muster.

Not having any needs in a relationship felt like constantly asking my partner to carry me, while refusing to give any input on where we should go, and ultimately becoming frustrated with the direction they chose. It wasn’t fair to either of us — instead of a partner, they got a piece of performance art. Part of the problem with this was that I got so comfortable having people make decisions for me, that it was years before I realized I didn’t have my own voice.

I’ve always deeply identified as a soft and caring person, long before I learned the lexicon of BDSM and realized I was a submissive. In my regular life, I’m assertive when I need to be; I communicate clearly, I have strong boundaries I’m happy to enforce, and I take no nonsense. When it comes to romance, I feel the safest, most relaxed, and find my true calm when I can be in my softest, submissive energy.

When you’re a submissive, particularly a service-oriented one like me, it’s quite common to naturally express your love through the love language called Acts of Service. Small gestures like surprising them with fresh flowers, or tidying up before they got home, meant more to me than they realized. I found that in vanilla (non-BDSM) relationships, these little acts were often appreciated at first, but quickly taken for granted. When I entered into a BDSM relationship for the first time, suddenly everything I did was continually noticed and rewarded. I managed to find not only a voice, but also equality.

Unfortunately, the relationship that introduced me to the more formal dynamics of BDSM wasn’t a healthy one, but it did awaken something in me. A small voice inside my chest started to tell me about its desires and yearnings. After the relationship disintegrated, I decided to truly embrace my sexuality for the first time, and explored BDSM for myself, not anyone else.

First, I entered a long period of celibacy, to ground myself in my body until I felt safe again. I spent a lot of time reading and researching before I ever explored with a partner, and I believe that was an integral part of recovering from my past, and positioned me to calmly and intentionally create my future. For the first time in my life, I felt my sensuality embodied at all times — I was vibrant, confident, energetic, and felt like a goddess.

Not only was I able to learn about my sexual preferences, but exploring BDSM also helped me discover my own voice. It taught me the immense power of communication during sex, in asking for what you want with no shame or apology. It taught me how to be assertive and get my needs met, without feeling like I had to put on a masculine or dominant persona that felt inauthentic to me.

One of the first questions I had on this journey, and remains the first question that my BDSM- curious clients usually ask me is “...But is BDSM feminist?”

Here’s what I have to say about that: When we are in partnerships where needs are being met and addressed equally, all parties feels safe and heard, and everyone is having a lovely time, then simply put, yes, BDSM can be feminist. In fact, BDSM couples often report improved levels of trust, excellent communication skills, and clear boundaries.

For me, it was within BDSM that I found the safety and equality I had been looking for. Not only was there a focus on mutual pleasure, but a particular importance placed on the power of communication, boundaries, expectations, and above all, consent.

A crucial aspect of BDSM that I wish people outside the community understood is how much conversation is involved, and how much power the submissive has — a dominant only has as much power and control as the submissive gifts to them. Full communication about personal likes and dislikes, desires for the session, as well as soft and hard limits are essential.

I personally never experienced that level of communication and true consent in a vanilla relationship. To be able to explore on my own terms what I might like, and feel safe to articulate when I discovered something I disliked without hurting anyone’s feelings was revolutionary.

The foundational principles of BDSM can deeply and positively impact any relationship, regardless of whether you engage in the sexual aspects. Improving communication, creating clear boundaries, and learning to extend trust can greatly improve not just a romantic relationship, but also friendships and even professional relationships. I believe that a submissive person can still be a force to be reckoned with!

Hopefully, my journey can continue to inspire others to find their own inner goddess, and perhaps even debunk the notion that you must be dominant in order to achieve success.

Does your sexuality make you feel like a powerful goddess? What are you still working on? Tell us more about your journey in the comments?

Isabella Frappier is an Australian writer, tarot reader, and holistic women’s wellness guide who specializes in body literacy and sexual sovereignty. She is also a host on the The Sex Magic Podcast. When she’s not busy championing her sex positive agenda, she—oh wait—she’s always busy doing that. Follow her adventures on Instagram.

by Isabella Aitken-Frappier