November 26th, 2015
Jessica Jones – Netflix’s newest Marvel Superhero show. 13 episodes all released at once.
(Possible Spoilers Ahead)
The guys had showed the preview at gaming. They’d talked about the back story. Friends had posted Trigger Warnings as well as praise for it on FB. I knew what I was getting into. On the surface.
I don’t suffer from PTSD. I haven’t had a traumatic past. For those that do and have, I imagine JJ would be quite the challenge to think about, let alone watch. I didn’t see any reason why it should bother me at all. Other than on the surface.
I identify as submissive. I enjoy power exchange from the giving up control side. I fetishize being under someone else’s complete control. I have a con-non-con rape fetish. I like being told what to do. I like the thought of being used. I’ve not been careful about my boundaries in the past.
JJ was a different kind of mindfuck for me. Watching the effect of complete control wielded by someone without a conscience. Watching the effect it had on the survivors. Watching her do what he said without him exerting the mental control. Shouting at the TV not to do it, he didn’t control her anymore. But she’s a hero, so she had to, to save the other people.
It churned up some stuff inside me. Doubt, disgust, fear. Why did I want those things? Was I so weak willed that I wanted someone else to control me? Do I not have any self-respect? What if I ran into a guy like that (not super, but charming, controlling, abusive)? Hadn’t I already let a few guys do that to me? Not to that extent of course. Remember the one who convinced you to lie to your best friend? Remember the ones that had you do things you didn’t want to do? Remember thinking you were not worthy of boundaries? Could that all happen again?
(Definite Spoilers Ahead)
But I kept watching. I watched the freedom that comes with not being controlled any more. I watched the control break, and her realize it. But there were doubts there, too. The control broke when he made her do something she really did not want to do. But does that mean, somewhere inside, she did want to do all the other things she had done for him? Was he right, that some part of her was meant to be with him? It was only that final act under his control that broke her free. If she did not want to do the other things, why didn’t they break her free?
I know, I know, don’t analyze a comic book that closely. But it messed with my head. Did I want to do those things I had done? I wouldn’t have, if I didn’t really want to, Right? I must have wanted to on some level.
I’ve talked about this kind of thinking before – victim blaming, etc. It does way more harm than good. It keeps people in bad situations. It keeps people from speaking out. It keeps us believing in worthlessness.
(Ending Spoilers Ahead)
I kept watching. I had to keep watching. It’s a superhero story, she had to win out in the end, right? I had to prove to myself that I had won out in the end. That those people, those actions, our pasts… those things do not define us. That I can be a strong-willed, confident woman, who is also a submissive, who enjoys power exchange.
She does win. She does get herself, and everyone else, fully free of him. It’s a gritty superhero story, so there is plenty of death along the way, but he does not win. Freedom to choose, wins. As it has in my life, too.
I choose my submission. I choose who I play with and how. I choose what I do with my body and my mind. I make my own choices.