Shibari Through Generations

My mom died last year. It hurts, of course. But, on the other hand, I think it was fair. She lived to be 84, and that’s a big number. I’m her youngest daughter, and I was always her favorite. It was me who had to go through the ritual of emptying her room to see what was worth keeping, what could be donated, and what had to be thrown into the garbage. It wasn’t a nice deed; I can tell you that. But it helped me to know my mom better, and that was nice. Little did I know I would discover Shibari through generations.

For example, I found some wonderful vintage dresses, complete with long gloves. My mom was a teenager in the 50s, and she always had a great body. I could imagine her looking gorgeous in those outfits, and enjoying her youth. That was marvelous.

However, the prize for unexpected discovery undoubtedly goes to what I at first thought were some kind of ropes to tie a trunk or something. It was only later, when I had taken some of my mom’s clothes to my home, that a friend told me that those were bondage ropes, and that I should hide them if I didn’t want uncomfortable questions.

At first, I was shocked! My mom doing bondage? Then, I thought: Why not? She was a sixties girl, and I guess bondage was part of her sexual liberation. It is sort of uncomfortable thinking of your mom tied in ropes, being kinky, and having great orgasms. But, on the other hand, that’s way better than thinking of her as a repressed woman who had ten sons and no orgasms at all. 

So, I decided to follow this unusual “family tradition” and learn about bondage myself. I’m 52, and I feel completely entitled to have a fulfilling sexuality. I have the right to explore and enjoy. And, judging by the first results after six months of learning, this is one of those “mother knows best” tips that just make life better, passing Shibari through generations.

This is my Shibari story.