Reflections on teaching touch based embodied consent practice aka Aggressive Snuggling 

 

Aggressive Snuggling: from the politics of touch to the poetics of touch is a practice I have developed to share embodied consent and body autonomy tactics using the basics of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu as a learning frame. I think of it as a combination of pre dojo, trusting other humans 101 and the bare bones of yes and no. Most of the folks I work with are dancers, choreographers and/or queers and trans folks interested in queer self defense or safe ways to strangle one another for fun or pleasure. Most of these folks have little to no experience with martial arts and have varying degrees of direct experience with trauma and violence. 

 

Why BJJ?

In BJJ it is absolutely necessary to commit all attention to the task at hand because of real physical risk of injury. One of the aspects I love about BJJ and why this form is a highly functional one for an embodied understanding yes and no, is the the incredible clarity of boundaries. When a person "taps out" a little tap on the shoulder or leg or really anywhere that can be reached, this means, no: stop doing what you are doing, let go, physically come apart and start again. Before engaging in any touch, there is a customary high five, then fist bump (yes, very bro-y.) The cues are not a suggestion of agreement, these cues are clear and necessary; yes, I agree to engage and; no, I longer agree and we are now stopping. 

 

While the yes and no of BJJ are specific to the form, this frame is useful because it has participants explore, what is my yes? what is my no?

The five reasons a person might tap in BJJ include:

1: I can't breath, my airway is blocked.

2: I'm going to pass out, blood is not getting to my brain, I'm “seeing stars.”

3: One of my joints is going to dislocate.

4: One of my bones is going to break.

5: I just want to stop. (My obvious favorite.)

 

I just want to stop- is the basis for the touch consent practice I teach. While in BJJ this can mean tapping from pressure, pain or discomfort, in the work I'm doing with folks, I am having them engage with the “this doesn't feel right for me right now” feeling in their bodies. I work to acknowledge and center -I just want to stop- no explanation necessary. An emotional no is a no. Emotional risk and physical risk are weighted the same. Emotional pain and physical pain (if we are even separating these anymore) are weighted the same. “No” is a complete sentence.

 

Queer Self Defense or bodies as weaponized healing.  In the longer term, I am working on figuring out ways to build sustainable ongoing queer martial arts practices centering women and queers.

 

How might martial arts practices be generative for thinking about queer resistance within the dance community and beyond?

 

When I say weaponize, I mean building our bodies, queer bodies, women's bodies, poc bodies, into physicalized resistance to state domination. A body that can shut down violence being acted upon it (or on others in our communities) is a subversive body, a body generative of narrative beyond victimhood, a weapon of self and community care against the state. My Friendsei (alternative word for mestre or master that my teacher and I have come up with,) Fernando Rebelo, told me Brazilian jiu-jitsu is “a practice of meeting your death every day.” BJJ practitioners know that anyone on the mat with more skills can kill them. This is heavy but it is also what it is like moving through the world in a queer body, a woman's body or a poc body under white supremacist heteropatriarchy. To come to the mat is to reckon with trauma and mortality, directly, in an embodied way. And this, in my experience, can be terrifying. Many barriers to training for queer and gender non-conforming folks exist. For these reasons, the practice and development of queer pedagogy in martial arts and making accessible spaces for this work is a priority. 

 

It is essential for the politics of touch to precede the poetics of touch because until we build a world, even if that is a tiny temporary world of a three hour workshop or a one week intensive, in which yes and no are not just talked about but experienced and trusted in our bodies, we do not have a world ready for the poetics of touch.

 

This all may seem very basic. But in my experience it is not. Trust and consent go hand in hand are ongoing practices and they must be learned and relearned. And trust takes time and patience and practice. Yes and no are absolutely basic but when we say “Yes,” and we mean, “Yes, I would like to pay my rent.” Or “Yes, I would like to keep this job.” Or  “Yes, because I don't want you to hurt me.” We are not working with an embodied yes, we are working with an coerced yes. Coercion and trust do not coexist. In some ways discovering and practicing the no seems more daunting in the outset but yes is actually much more complicated. I think yes goes beyond basics.