CarnalNation

It seems like there’s a lot of collaring going around these days. It must be spring. The grass is green, the air is crisp, and mornings of miserable rain alternate with sunlit, clear-skied, mildly breezy afternoons. In such promising March weather, a kinkster’s thoughts can’t help but lightly turn to locking a symbol of commitment around the neck of some best beloved.

My lover and I have been invited to two collaring ceremonies so far and have heard rumors of more to come. As we congratulate our friends we can’t help but smile, remembering our own fit of spring fever almost a year ago when we collared each other, an impulsive move that has worked out pretty well for us so far.

For those not in the know, a “collar” is, broadly defined, a symbol of commitment in a kinky relationship. The archetypal collar is given by the dominant partner to their submissive, indicating their authority over, or even ownership of, the collar’s recipient. But there are all kinds of collars, and they are as varied in appearance as they are in meaning.

Many people are familiar with the image of a slave in a studded leather dog collar. Although hot and kinky, such a collar is a bit impractical for everyday wear. Most couples look for more discreet alternatives such as the eternity collar, an attractive locking metal necklet that easily passes as vanilla jewelry. These are very popular for female submissives. Leathermen often prefer a padlocked chain around the neck, which, while not exactly subtle, can usually be hidden under a dress shirt and tie for work. And some “collars” aren’t collars at all. Many people choose other pieces of jewelry, like rings, to stand for the same type of relationship. Some collars are tattoos, or even brands. I’ve yet to hear of microchipping, but I’m sure it’s been done, or will be.

Collars have as many different functions as they do forms. Some indicate a commitment as serious as that implied by a wedding ring, or even more serious, depending on who you ask. Other collars just mean “dibs”; sometimes a dominant who has just recently begun seeing a sub will give them a “collar of consideration” to stake their claim. If the sub is new to BDSM, this collar also serves to warn off the predators who like to prey on novices. One dominant I know used a collar to literally “keep tabs” on her long-distance submissive; a pair of dog tags hanging around the sub’s neck were inscribed with the dominant’s phone number and instructions to call her if the sub misbehaved.

Typically when a collar is either given back or taken away it is an emotional event that can be devastating for all involved. I talked to a young man who had been forced by airport security to cut off his collar. His master had revoked his privilege to wear it, and put him on probation. When I spoke with him, he was still hoping to earn it back. I heard his story shortly after my own collaring, and found it a bittersweet reminder of how fortunate I was.

My lover and I are a bit unorthodox in that we are collared to each other. While this is not unheard of, it is unusual, and we are often asked if we both belong to the same master. The truth is that we’re switches, and it just didn’t make sense for one of us to be collared and the other not. What goes around tends to come around in a switch relationship, so the day after they collared me, I collared them right back. (My lover is gender fluid and often likes the gender-neutral pronoun “they,” which nicely conveys their many-faceted identity without committing them to either masculine or feminine presentation. They have also likened it to the “royal ‘we.’” Okay, so maybe there is a slightly more dominant half to our equation.)

The chain of my collar came from a hardware store. When I asked for fifteen inches of stainless steel chain there, the response was “Are you sure? Sixteen inches is usually the size of a man’s neck.” They were on to me, which is not too surprising, considering it was a hardware store in the Castro. My padlock is a luggage lock from Walgreens, and my dog tag came from Petco. It’s inscribed with my name and my lover’s phone number. Getting it was a kinky experience, and no less significant for being cheap.

I have worn this collar for almost a year now. I sleep in it, go to school and work in it, and take it off only to shower. Through constant wear it has almost become a part of me, a body modification much like my piercings, but closer to my heart. When I look into the mirror now, I don’t notice my collar any more than I notice my own eyes, but I look strange to myself without it. I suppose that’s a good metaphor for my lover’s place in my life; at this point, I simply can’t imagine myself without them, and often wonder how I got by before we met.

As we approach the one year anniversary of our collaring, and congratulate friends who are preparing to increase their commitment to one another, it’s strange to remember that I was once skeptical that collaring could ever have as much legitimate meaning as an institution like marriage. Now I know so many wonderful people in solid, loving relationships who just happen to be collared or owned. Probably these relationships have worked out so well precisely because we have granted ourselves the freedom to do things our own way. What does it matter that, instead of spouses, these people are dominants and submissives, masters and slaves, or owners and pets to one another?

Self definition in a relationship is powerful. So is clarity of expectations and roles. The very individual, very specific implications of a collar, whether it’s a studded leather band for a human puppy or a seamless eternity ring for a 24/7 slave, carry weight with those who wear them, a weight that is greater than all the disapproval in the world for those who love a different way.