Yours, Noor: Free Palestine

Trying to redefine myself in and out of kink when I feel like I’ve lost myself.

Dear Reader,

It’s been 48 days of genocide as I write this. 48 days of deep grief and holy rage. 48 days of watching the unimaginable happen to my Palestinian siblings. 48 days of desperately trying to understand what it means to witness Palestine scream to the world, “Where have you been for 75 years?” 48 days of wondering how to turn witnessing into justice.

Before I continue selfishly writing about my thoughts while children count sheep under rubble and hope someone finds them, I must first beg you to consider your position. 

What privileges do you embody or have access to that you can leverage? Have you learned about Congo and Sudan? Have you tried? And I mean really tried. What have you given up? What are you willing to sacrifice?

I am disabled, physically and mentally. I have been skipping meals to pay for my rent. My resources are limited to say the least. As an oral historian I still have something to give. I’ve been recording and working. I have been attending actions and have experienced flare ups to a degree I haven't experienced in nearly a year. My back has become so inflamed and in pain, it’s impacting the way and distance I can walk. I’ve spent my days in between actions tending to my struggling body and resourcing a used walker so I can continue to show up. On days I can’t go to actions I help with jail support from my home and post incessantly on IG. I don’t say this as a comparison but as a form of accountability. I’m asking you to do what I am asking myself to do everyday. So please, use whatever unique skills you hold to mobilize.

I invite you to share space with me as I process what these changes mean. If you are someone who’s ready to push yourself in these ways (and beyond my limited vision), join me as I reflect on redefining myself when I feel like I’ve lost myself.

There’s a TikTok that comes to mind of a 20-year activist, LadySpeech, who urges young activists to remember that this is a marathon, not a sprint. Rest and self-love is a necessary part of the revolution. As the old adage goes, “You can’t pour from an empty glass.”

@ladyspeechsankofaTake care. #ladyspeech #eldermillenial #advice #TakeCare #SelfCare #LadySpeech #LadySpeechSankofa #Activist #FYP

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The rest and self-love necessary has been a difficult thing for me to process and hold during these times. We’ve been trained to believe the individual alone can change the world, change “this” for the better. Of course in some ways we can, but this belief that one person can change a global system is  bizarre. The system is built to make sure that doesn’t happen. This usually results in us feeling guilty for not being able to change something impossible to change alone. If we internalize that, it can feel like you’re losing yourself. It can feel like filling your cup is a betrayal of your values. I know it has felt that way for me. Still, it is our duty to do this and to remember it’s a collective duty to free ourselves. 

During more mundane times, impact scenes and blood play were easy ways to refill my cup. The pain was always intoxicating, and as a masochist, pleasing.

I’m no stranger to navigating chronic pain and consensual pain; so when I did a quick scene around Halloween with some chain floggers, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to work some of this trauma out of my body since October 7th. I needed some release, even though I was exhausted, and kneeled on the spanking bench hoping to descend into subspace for a bit of escape.

So imagine my surprise when after one (1!) good smack of the chain flogger, I yelped and said to my scene top, “…I think I need to stop.”

[image description: Noor shows their left hip and butt in their mirror while they take a photo, wearing black underwear. There’s a semi-clear, red imprint of two chains on their skin.]

This sent me into a bit of a spiral, if I’m completely honest. It went a little something like this:

1. Why didn’t it work?

2. Is something off with me? Did I not notice something about my body?

3. I don’t think so, why didn’t it work???

4. Everyone had such a good time, I wish I could’ve.

5. Ugh I could’ve still had a good time! Why is intimacy so hard?

6. I’m good at practicing levels of intimacy in kink though - I think!?

7. Go back to 1 

The next morning I cried while I watched children cry for martyred parents.

Since then I’ve had the chance to process on my own as well as with community. Friends both near and far have checked in with me or we’ve had long FaceTime chats; locally, folks have been organizing healing services, sharing food and conversation. This has all helped me realize that I neglected to truly investigate spiral point number 2. Something is off with me, and it’s the new (and old) trauma in me. My desperate need for escape was directly tied to the genocide happening in Palestine. For whatever reason - my body wasn’t desiring an impact scene. 

Now I still am a masochist. I may even be up for impact and blood play now as I’ve been giving myself the space to understand. However that doesn’t mean that another day won’t happen where I can’t access that masochistic sweet spot. So, what will I do when that happens? 

BDSM and kink isn’t something I’ll ever be without again in my life. I love it, it’s a part of me as much as any other identity. Moving forward, I do want to change how I navigate those spaces. I need to ensure I don’t leave feeling, despondently, that I’ve lost a piece of myself. 

For instance, investigating other interests like pet play, or slut training. Or maybe even just having someone boss me around - those can also access my submissiveness and be just as satisfying. It’s hard to remember that you can continue to explore or re-explore when you feel like you’ve found your “thing.”

More importantly, remembering that, unlike how my cPTSD sees things, I’m not losing a piece of myself when something doesn’t feel the same as before. Rather, sometimes the things around you are changing and you need something different to feel good. I take these moments to remind myself that this new space I’ve discovered isn’t because something is missing, but because there’s more to explore. 

To you, dear readers, remember that we’ve experienced 48 days of horrors on top of generations of trauma. It is changing us, but it doesn’t mean we are losing ourselves. We are different after these 48 days, and it’s okay that we’re different. Let’s all lean into discovering what this change can mean. Together.

Yours,

Noor

فلسطين حرة

P.S. Thank you for reading. It’s been hard to focus on other projects with the current state of the world. I will be trying to finalize the next episode of Disability & BDSM soon. Thank you for your patience.

P.S.S. Thank you Cherry for your edits on this rough draft.